Wild Card
by Idan
Summary: Patrick Jane is a resilient man, but now he realizes there might be something he can't cope with: his teenage daughter dating. Is her boyfriend up to something, or is he just imagining things? Sequel to Second Hand, which was a sequel to In the Cards, but don't worry if you haven't read those.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : Okay, some of this has got to be mine, right? After 300,000 words, I should at least get the kids. And the dog. No? Geez. Well, I'm not making any money off this anyway.

 **Author's Note** : This idea has been in my head since I finished Second Hand, but I haven't been able to get to it until now. I hope some of you have read the previous stories and still remember a little, but I'll fill in the blanks if you're new to this universe, which went off canon in early season 5. You could almost read this as canon at this point, except the CBI is still going strong under Hightower and Rigsby and Van Pelt's first child together was a boy named Joshua. Oh, and my version of the Red John takedown involved a lot of Visualize, and he turned out to be someone other than McAllister. He's still dead, though. :)

And for those of you reading Letters to Teresa, there will be more, but probably not immediately. Right now my muse is being pretty tight lipped about the next occasion.

* * *

Patrick Jane took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply, savoring the fresh country air, the wind rustling the trees, and the sun on his face. This was the life, he thought. No job to worry about, a pleasant meadow to roam, and a silence broken only by birdsong, the sniffing of the dog at his side, and the pony grazing nearby. His children were safely at their expensive private school, and his lovely wife had promised to be home early to celebrate their anniversary.

Eighteen years. He could hardly believe it. Where had the time gone? It seemed only a little while ago that he'd been standing on a beach with Teresa Lisbon, exchanging vows while their friends stood around them, on the watch in case a serial killer tried to crash the party. Or huddling with her in the bathroom of a Visualize mental facility, relieved to have found her safe, as she whispered the news that he was going to be a father again. Or admiring their first Christmas tree as a married couple and timing the contractions she wouldn't admit were real.

Their marriage had been a roller coaster ride, that was for sure. Red John had loomed over it at the beginning, and then they'd focused on the twins. But Victoria and Liam were in their senior year of high school already; before long, they'd be off to college. Then it would be just him and Teresa.

Well, him, Teresa, sixty acres, and an assortment of farm animals. They'd moved here ten years ago when Victoria got seriously into horses. She'd grown into a dedicated equestrian, competing in dressage and then show jumping, and Jane had encouraged her every step of the way. As long as his beautiful, vivacious daughter was spending every spare moment in the saddle, she wasn't hanging out with boys. He wasn't sure she was ready for serious dating, but he was very sure he wasn't.

Her brother, at least, showed no interest in girls. Well, that wasn't true; he showed plenty of interest. He was just an introvert with high standards, so he'd never made a move to ask out any of the girls he smiled at. Liam seemed content for now to spend his free time on his art and music, amazing his parents with his creativity and talent.

Belle, the little beagle/dachshund mix they'd gotten when the kids were little, bumped companionably against his leg, and Jane leaned down to pet her. Despite her greying muzzle, she was still eager to accompany him on his walks. "We still have a few good years left in us, don't we, Belle?" he murmured, scratching her ears.

She looked up at him adoringly, and he smiled. Since his retirement as a consultant for the FBI two months ago, the dog had been his constant companion. He'd rather have Teresa, of course, but so far he'd been unsuccessful in persuading her to take early retirement.

Suddenly Belle's ears lifted, and she turned to look at the long driveway. Patrick heard the car engine a moment later, and his heart leapt eagerly. "Come on, old girl," he urged, striding back toward the house.

Blueberry, the now elderly pony Victoria had learned to ride on, gave a snort and followed, hoping there might be a treat in store. But Patrick was focused on the driveway, watching the bend where the car would become visible. He grinned as Teresa's vintage Mustang came into view. She was even earlier than he'd dared hope!

He jogged the rest of the way to the house, but by the time he got there Teresa had already put down her briefcase, taken off her jacket and shoes, and gone into the kitchen. She smiled as he came in the back door, and he was struck all over again by her gentle beauty. Age had touched her only lightly, and since she was still working she hid her grey hair with dye. It was easy to forget how much time had passed since they'd met.

He knew his face showed it, though. His beard had come in partly grey, and there were deep laugh lines hidden beneath it, to match the crinkles around his eyes. He considered them evidence of a life well lived these past eighteen years, with no trace of the slick showman he used to be.

"You're home early." Patrick greeted her with a kiss.

"Surprise," she chuckled. It wasn't often he was truly surprised, and she enjoyed pulling it off when she could. "We only get one eighteenth anniversary. I figured we should spend most of it together. Have you had lunch?"

"Not yet." He was delighted at the thought of having lunch with her. Even when they'd both worked in the same building at the FBI, their schedules had rarely permitted it. "What did you have in mind?"

She grinned, opened her briefcase, and released the smell of Coronado's meatball subs into the room. Patrick was salivating by the time she handed him the bag. "Happy anniversary," she said. "I grabbed a couple of beers too; they're in the fridge."

Patrick felt a tendril of concern weave itself into his joy. "Are we celebrating, or are you softening me up for something?" he half joked.

Even after all these years, she was still translucent to him. He read the flicker of chagrin on her face as easily as a neon sign, and she knew there was no use lying. "Both. I wanted to celebrate first, but I guess now we should talk first."

"We can talk while we eat," he said much more calmly than he felt, getting the beers from the fridge.

As they settled at the kitchen table, he tried to read what to expect. She was a little anxious, but there was no guilt, so she wanted to make a proposal, not ask forgiveness. His concern faded into curiosity. "Just like old times," he remarked as she tore into her sub.

There was that flicker again. "Yeah."

"But you want to talk about the future, not the past," he guessed.

She gave him the look she always did when he pretended to read her mind. "Yes. We've kind of discussed how things are changing, since the kids will be off to college this fall. But we haven't seriously talked about downsizing."

The farm had been a concession for her, he knew. She would always be a city girl at heart, and she'd hinted before that once their nest was empty, she'd like it to be in a smaller place closer to work. He'd had more than a decade to enjoy his little patch of nature; it was only fair to move back into her comfort zone once it was just the two of them. "No, we haven't. And I don't object, but the kids might."

She nodded, chewing. After she swallowed, she said, "You know I've turned down more than one promotion to stay at the Sacramento office."

Ah. He winced a little as he realized where this was going. "Yes. And I have a feeling you have an offer you'd like to take."

"The twins are almost out of school, and you're retired. It seems like now or never. And this position is one I'm really interested in."

She'd spent the last twelve years in a supervisory agent position, not because it was what she wanted, but because it was the best thing for her family. He knew she'd chafed at it sometimes, but he couldn't keep the dread out of his voice as he asked, "You won't go back into the field, will you?"

Teresa snorted. "At my age? Not likely."

"So where would you like us to move?"

She bit her lip. "Washington, DC."

The other side of the country? Patrick swallowed a protest. Victoria was considering Emory and Henry College in Virginia for its equestrian program, so at least she'd be close if she chose it. And maybe Liam would decide to go to Juilliard after all if his family was out east. "That's...quite a change."

"I know. But we wouldn't be without friends. Cho was transferred there last year."

Patrick wondered if Hightower had forgiven him yet for the exodus of her best team. He'd been the first to jump to the FBI, which was entirely her fault since she'd punished Teresa for his actions at the CBI. Teresa had followed shortly afterward. Cho had held out the longest, leaving only four years earlier. Once Rigsby had followed Grace to San Francisco, Patrick thought Cho had found the CBI less fun. "That's a point in the pro column."

"I'd be reporting to an Assistant Director, heading up a new unit," she said, encouraged by his reaction. "It would be really interesting work. Right up your alley, actually."

"Oh, no you don't. I'm retired. You're supposed to be thinking about when you'll join me, not trying to drag me back in."

Teresa gave him an exasperated look. "How long exactly do you think you can wander around the property talking to the dog and stay sharp? Hm? You need something to do, Patrick."

"I'm thinking of taking up painting. Or photography. Possibly both," he protested. "Anyway, I assume this new assignment starts sooner than September, so it looks like I'll be busy single parenting and arranging our move while you work out of an apartment across the country for the next seven months."

The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became. Preparing their children for college was something they should do together. He supported her right to focus on her career again, but he wished she could wait until the dorm rooms were furnished and good-byes said.

"It's in the early stages. I wouldn't need to move until I've put my team together. Of course I'm not going to miss taking Liam and Victoria to school," she assured him, sounding a little indignant at the end. Then she softened her tone. "We don't need to sell this place if you don't want to. We can rent in DC. I probably won't work more than five more years. Eight maybe. Ten, max."

"This is a little high maintenance for a retired couple," he admitted. "But it would be a nice place for the holidays, at least for the next few years."

"We have time to think it through. If we decide to do it, we'll want to break it to the kids gently." She took another bite, her eyes anxious.

His disgruntlement vanished as he remembered how hard it was for her to put her own wishes above her family's. "Yes. But don't worry, love. You made it possible for them to grow up in just one city, unlike a lot of families. They'll be grateful for that." And if they weren't, he'd remind them of his nomadic childhood.

Teresa smiled at him. "And now that I've gotten that out of the way, let's celebrate our anniversary."

She reached across the table, and they linked hands for a moment.

"Eat up," Patrick grinned. "We only have three hours to ourselves. And I for one would like a cuddle and a nap."

She raised her eyebrow. "My expectations are considerably higher than that, Paddy."

"So demanding," he chuckled.

mmm

They just barely got themselves up and dressed again before the twins' car pulled into the driveway. Victoria and Liam shared a car because Teresa said it would be a waste to drive two vehicles to the same place every day, though Patrick suspected she really hoped they'd keep each other from doing anything stupid. So far, so good.

But it was only Victoria who breezed into the kitchen where Patrick was beginning anniversary dinner preparations. She was beaming and carrying a vase full of pink rosebuds. "Look!"

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "For me? Thank you, princess!"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dad. For me! It's Valentine's Day."

"And who are they from?" he asked.

"Brett," she said in a tone that implied she was humoring his idiocy. At least "duh" had gone out of vogue several years earlier.

"Ah." Patrick searched his memory of her class roster. Brett Mason was a little older than her, but that was because the twins would graduate at seventeen instead of eighteen. He seemed like a clean cut kid from a prosperous family, but nearly everyone at the academy was. Patrick just hadn't realized he was any more special than any of the other boys. "What did you get him?"

Victoria tossed her golden curls and gave him a saucy look. "Just a kiss."

Teresa came into the room just in time; Patrick had never been so glad for one of her rescues when there weren't guns involved. "Those are beautiful, sweetie. Where's Liam?"

"Oh, he's jamming with some of his friends. He said he'd get a ride home."

Patrick grimaced a little, but he confined his commentary to a glance at Teresa. He didn't like not knowing where his family was at all times, but his wife had strong views on not smothering their children. They had to learn to be independent adults, preferably before going off to college where opportunities for trouble abounded, she often reminded him.

Victoria set the vase down on the counter. "Brett's taking me to dinner next Saturday."

Patrick opened his mouth, but Teresa beat him to the objection. "Not before we've met him, he's not."

Victoria rolled her eyes again. "Yes, mom, I know. That's why he's coming for lunch tomorrow."

"A little more notice would have been nice," Teresa said.

"It's Saturday, so you're not working, and I know you don't have any plans since there's nothing on the calendar. I made a note on it when I invited him. Haven't you checked it today?"

Teresa pulled out her smartphone and consulted the calendar. "Not for a while. But yes, I see it here. You think we'll need three hours?"

"How long does an interrogation normally take?" Victoria asked in her best fake-innocent tone.

"Not long if the subject is innocent," Teresa retorted.

"Just be sure this boyfriend of yours knows your parents were both in law enforcement," Patrick said, only half joking.

"Oh please." Victoria gave him a look she'd gotten from her mother. "As if you ever killed anybody."

Patrick opened his mouth and then stopped, flummoxed. Winning the argument meant altering his daughter's image of him, for the worse, forever. Did he really want to go there?

He glanced at Teresa, who was frozen between a scoff and horrified realization. She quickly turned to the refrigerator in search of a drink, but not before Victoria deciphered her expression. She rounded on her father with wide eyes. "You did? Really? Who?"

"Well," Patrick said, stalling for time while his mind raced, "not as many as your mother, of course."

"More than one?" Victoria demanded.

Crap. He'd gotten rusty since retiring, and he'd taught his daughter too well. "Yes."

"How many?"

It had been a long time, but he knew the number, of course. "Three. They were all very bad men, though. Criminals."

"Tell me." He hadn't seen that look of wide-eyed interest from her in at least ten years.

"Well, the first one was pointing a gun at your mother. I was so terrified I couldn't think. I just grabbed a rifle out of the car I was standing next to and shot him. He died a minute later."

"Wow."

So that's what it took to impress a teenager, Patrick thought wryly.

Teresa had turned back around and was listening intently. "You never told me you were scared. You made out like you had some clever plan."

It was Patrick's turn to roll his eyes. "How was killing my best lead a clever plan? If I'd been clever, I'd've shot him in the knee so he could still talk. Or distracted him so you could draw your gun. Of course I was scared, Teresa." He remembered that vividly. "You were the only person left on this earth who gave a damn about me. If he'd killed you, I...I don't know what I would have done."

Patrick took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. Remembering the broken man he'd been and his breathless terror at seeing her threatened brought back feelings he'd long forgotten.

Teresa took the three steps to him and put her arms around him. "I don't think I ever thanked you for saving my life," she murmured as he rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in her comforting scent.

They were silent for a few seconds. Then Victoria demanded, "What about the other two?"

Patrick raised his head. "Well, the next one convinced me he was Red John. I shot him in a mall food court."

Victoria's jaw dropped. "How are you not in jail?"

Teresa cut off his next words. "Luck," she said firmly. "We proved the guy was a crook, though it turned out he wasn't Red John. And your father learned a valuable lesson about the dangers of vigilante justice."

She was probably right not to give their headstrong daughter any ideas about talking her way out of felonies, Patrick reflected. Or taking the law into her own hands. He nodded meekly.

"And the third one was Red John?" Victoria guessed.

"Yes. Self defense," Patrick said. He'd talked generally about it over the years as the children asked questions, but he'd glossed over the details. "That scar on my stomach? That was the last thing he did."

Victoria had his self-absorption; Liam, more like his mother, would have asked more questions. But she was focused on her own concerns, for which he was grateful. "Well, there's no need to threaten Brett. He's not a criminal. And he's very smart."

That piqued Patrick's interest. His children were at the top of their class, rarely finding much academic competition aside from each other. "Oh? Challenging you for valedictorian, is he?"

"No," she said firmly. "There are other kinds of smart than school smart."

"Very true," Patrick agreed. "Well, I look forward to meeting this paragon."

"Me too," Teresa said. "Text your brother and remind him it's our anniversary, please. I don't want him to lose track of time."

Victoria smirked. "You know he will. Once he starts playing his guitar, he forgets everything."

"Obsessive focus runs in the family," Teresa agreed, giving Patrick a look that let him know which of them she thought responsible for that trait.

Victoria texted her brother, then pocketed her phone. "I'm going for a ride up at the training center. I'll pick him up on my way home."

"Thank you," Patrick called after her as she left.

When she was gone, he turned to Teresa to find her looking at him as if he were still her consultant plotting something of which she could not approve. "What?" he asked.

"She's seventeen," Teresa said firmly. "She's going to date. She's going to do things you don't like and hang out with people you don't like. She's going to be her own person and make her own mistakes. And you are going to let her."

Patrick sighed. "I can't disagree."

"I know it's not easy." Her tone softened. "You're such a good father, Patrick. You've done an amazing job of protecting them and loving them. It means so much to me that they haven't had to grow up too fast, like we both did." She took his hand. "But they do have to grow up."

He kissed her, but as he drew back he yielded to the temptation to tease her. "No, they don't. They can live at home and take care of us when we get old. It happens all the time."

She snorted. "I want more for them. I want them to go out in the world and use their talents to make it a better place. And so do you."

"I do," he admitted. "I just don't want them to get hurt."

"I know. Neither do I." She smiled. "Which is why while you're fixing dinner, I'm going to fire up my laptop and run a quick background check on Brett Mason."

"I love you," Patrick smiled, kissing her soundly.

"And I love you. Even when you're being an anxious, overprotective goofball." She grinned over her shoulder at him as she left.

mmm

When the twins got home three hours later, Patrick was just putting dinner on the table, so they had to scramble to get washed up. Teresa had put in some work besides the background check, he knew, but he wasn't going to complain. He had all his family here, safe and happy, and that was all he ever wanted. He looked around the table at them, beaming, as they passed dishes and heaped food on their plates.

Teresa noticed and smiled back. He wondered if she was ever struck breathless with amazement that they'd come so far, like he was.

"Are you going to make a speech?" she teased.

"Don't tempt me," he grinned.

Liam swept his dark bangs out of his eyes and smirked at his father. "We've heard it all before. In fact, I bet I could recite it."

"Why don't you put it to music?" Patrick suggested, partly serious.

"That'd be the sappiest love song of all time," he groaned.

Victoria said, "Put in the killing people part and make it a ballad."

"Nobody'd believe it," Liam said.

Ah, Patrick thought. He'd obviously been a topic of conversation on the drive home. He hoped Victoria hadn't put her own dramatic spin on it. "I am a little improbable," he joked. Then he sobered. "But I'll always be honest with you about my mistakes, if you ask. If I can't be a good role model, I can at least be a cautionary tale."

Liam thought about it. "When I bring a girlfriend home, tell her that story."

Patrick frowned. "You want me to threaten your girlfriend?"

"No." Liam finished chewing and swallowed. "She'll think it's cool I was raised by a man who protects his family at any cost. You know, romantic."

Patrick smirked at Teresa, who hadn't seen any of his gunplay as romantic. "I think you might want to ask your mom about that."

"Visiting you in jail was hardly romantic," she agreed. "And as I recall, your shooting Hardy landed me in mandatory therapy, which the therapist used to frame me for murder."

"And you were unconscious and hospitalized after Red John, so I didn't get any credit for that either."

"I was too busy worrying you'd get arrested again," she replied.

"You guys are so weird," Victoria said. "Can you please try to be normal while Brett's here?"

Teresa winked at him, and he grinned. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "we can try."

mmm

A few hours later, Patrick was reading in bed waiting for Teresa to finish up in the bathroom when he noticed her cell phone dinging. He hoped there wasn't some emergency behind the sudden flurry of emails, but ignored it until a call came through. Then he reached over to see who it was.

"Hey, Grace," he said. Teresa would skin him for answering a work call, but this had to be personal, since the two agents worked in completely separate areas.

"Hi Jane," she replied, sounding only a little surprised. "How's retirement?"

"I highly recommend it."

"I wish. All those savings bonds you bought for Ben helped with his college, but Josh and Emma need me to keep working," she chuckled.

"Just let me know when you need me to hit a casino for you. The offer's always open."

"Thanks. Is Lisbon around?"

"In the bathroom. Can I take a message?"

"Yeah. She asked for my help tracking down some information, and I got it for her." Grace paused. "You guys looking into Visualize again?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"Well, one of the names she gave me popped up in an old case. There was a connection."

Jane frowned. Without Bret Stiles, he might not have found Teresa. But on the other hand, Stiles had protected Red John and his followers, allowing them to kidnap her using Visualize resources. On balance, Jane had decided to keep Stiles away from his family, and he hadn't seen him since he'd come to the CBI to congratulate him and Teresa on their pregnancy and successful escape. He'd died over twelve years ago, and thus far his promises to resurrect himself had gone unfulfilled.

Grace continued, "Not really a red flag, but...it feels weird. Sanitized."

"Always trust your instincts." Patrick looked up as Teresa sat down on the bed. "Here she is, Grace. Say hi to Wayne and the kids." He handed over the phone.

"Hi, Grace," Teresa smiled. Then she frowned. "Uh huh. Hm. Really? No, it's not a case, so don't spend any more time on it. Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it." She smiled again. "That sounds great. I'll talk to Patrick and see what we can arrange. Love to Wayne and the kids!"

Patrick looked closely at her as she hung up. "Tell me that wasn't about the background check on our daughter's boyfriend."

"I wish I could."

He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "What's the connection?"

"Brett Mason's mother legally changed her name when she became an adult. I was trying to track down her original birth certificate. It led me to a private facility I couldn't crack. Turns out it was a Visualize hospital."

He reached over to rub her back, feeling her tension fade at his touch. Her imprisonment in a Visualize mental facility had been traumatic, and even an old trauma could be painful, as he was well aware. "So his mother was born into Visualize."

"Yeah."

That was no reason to freak out, he told himself firmly. "But she left it as an adult and changed her name."

"Probably to make it harder for them to keep track of her. Lots of people left Visualize after the Red John conspiracy was made public," Teresa said.

"Yes, they did. But she had to have left before that, unless she had Brett before she left. He's older than our kids." Patrick frowned. "Where was he born?"

"Mercy Hospital. So she'd already left, it seems."

"But if she was turning her back on the cult, why name her son Brett?" Patrick mused.

"I don't know. What I do know is that we can't hold this kid responsible for his parents' actions," Teresa said firmly. "I almost wish I hadn't dug around. Promise me you're not going to treat him like a criminal."

"Of course not." Victoria would never forgive him if he did. "But you can't blame me for being wary. We were never sure we got all his disciples. And if you'll recall, they had designs on our children."

"Like I could forget," Teresa grumbled. "I was the one who had to endure the brainwashing attempts, remember?"

"I remember." Though actually she'd never talked about it much. "What about his father?"

"Not named on his birth certificate. He was raised by a stepfather. No connection to Visualize that I could find."

"What was the connection to an old case?" Patrick needed more information. He had a bad feeling, but he needed to tread lightly. This wasn't a case, where he could piss people off with impunity. This was his daughter's life.

"Melinda Mason's father was part of the protection force, Vigilance. He was arrested once for threatening someone who'd left Visualize."

Patrick frowned. "I don't like it."

"I don't either. But let's not blow this out of proportion. They haven't been dating long; it probably won't last. Besides, she's going to college in a few months."

Where she'd be vulnerable, away from her parents' protection. "What if this is reconnaissance?"

Teresa grimaced. "You think she's the leader they'd want?"

"She's charismatic, yes. For my money, Liam would be a far better mastermind, but he's not the kind of person who collects a crowd."

"Look. Let's not get all paranoid about this. Nobody's ever come after the kids before." Teresa leaned over to kiss him, then got under the covers and turned off her lamp.

"Will you tell Moore?" Patrick reluctantly lay down and turned off his lamp too. "If this is a resurgence of his old case, he should be told."

She sighed into the darkness. "Yes, I'll tell him. He can officially look into it and put your mind at rest." After a moment, she rolled over and tucked an arm around him. "But you better hope your daughter never finds out you reported her boyfriend to the FBI."

"I won't tell her if you don't."

Teresa chuckled in his ear. "Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the kind reception of this story! I'm blown away by how many of you fondly remember In the Cards, especially those who have invested the time to read it more than once. It's thrilling and humbling. For those of you taking a chance on this without the background, please keep in mind that this universe went off canon in early season 5, so the way the Red John arc finished was completely different. I'm trying to fill in the background without overdoing spoilers in case you get stranded on a desert island and need something lengthy to read. :)

Thank you all for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Teresa woke by herself, which wasn't unusual. Patrick usually got up before her, either to take the dog out or enjoy the sunrise. If she slept late, sometimes he'd crawl back into bed so she could wake up in his arms, but those occasions were rare.

Sitting up, she stretched and yawned, then smiled as she heard a guitar playing nearby. She put on her robe and followed the sound to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Turning the coffeemaker on, she looked out at the sun rising over the trees and enjoyed the lazy tune drifting in from the back porch through the partially open window. The kettle on the stove was still warm, and she pictured Patrick sitting in a rocking chair on the porch enjoying his morning cup while Liam played.

While Victoria was the child most obviously like Patrick, Teresa knew he was pleased to recognize some of his traits in his son too. He'd been concerned that, lacking a good role model for fatherhood, he'd be at sea trying to raise a boy, but as Liam grew up his concerns had faded.

Teresa knew her son was like her in a lot of ways, which gave his father a pre-existing catalog of tells to watch for. From Patrick he seemed to have inherited the ability to function on very little sleep, an almost scary grasp of the wants and needs of the people around him, and a stubborn persistence.

Teresa had no doubt that Liam knew more about his parents' past than his sister, only because he'd taken the time to look. As a boy he'd often been fearful of strangers and change, and as he grew up he'd become a meticulous researcher, using preparation to defuse his anxiety. That served him well in things that required practice, like music and art, but he tended to shut down when confronted with the unexpected.

Victoria was excited about leaving home, but Teresa knew Liam wasn't. He'd talk about it only when he'd finished brooding, however, which was another way he and his father were alike.

She heard a clink as Patrick set his cup and saucer down with a satisfied sigh. Liam finished the song he was playing a few moments later. "Morning," he said.

"Good morning," Patrick replied.

"Ready to meet the boyfriend?" Liam strummed absently.

"It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not; it's happening either way. Got an inside line you'd care to share?"

Teresa frowned. She didn't like the idea of recruiting Liam to spy on his sister. She believed in sibling solidarity, but Patrick, an only child, didn't really understand it.

Liam paused in his playing for a moment. "He's a jock. Don't think we've ever said two words to each other."

"Sports, hm? At least he and your mother will have something to talk about."

Teresa grinned.

"I don't know what he's going to make of you, Dad. I can't wait to find out, though."

"Don't sell tickets yet. Your mother has lectured me soundly about behaving for our guest."

"I could sell tickets to that."

Patrick chuckled. "You're not wrong."

Liam picked out a fast little song on his guitar. It was several minutes later before he said, "He's smarter than he pretends to be. Could be to fit in with his friends better, but he turns right around and shows off for Victoria."

Being a shallow, socially minded teenager wasn't a felony, Teresa reflected. It did nothing to reassure her, but she was trying to keep a lid on her concerns, worried that a whiff of fear from her would send Patrick's paranoia into overdrive.

"She's buying it though?"

Liam said, "She says nobody else understands him."

Teresa grimaced a little. That was how it had started for her, knowing she was Patrick's only confidante. Victoria was enough her mother's daughter that it might work for her too.

"Do you know anything about his religious affiliation?"

"I expected that question from Mom. He's not Catholic, but I don't know what he is." Liam paused. "Why do you care? You haven't been in a church since our confirmation."

Patrick sighed. "I know you've researched Red John. Did you learn about Visualize?"

"Yeah, a little. They were in on kidnapping Mom."

"Yes, they were. But not because they wanted her."

Teresa turned to collect her mug from the coffeemaker and decided to join them. They both looked up as she came out to the porch, and Patrick extended a hand, looking relieved to have her company. Her hunch was confirmed when he tugged on her hand, pulling her toward him. Carefully holding her coffee cup out, she settled herself on his lap, dropping a kiss on his smile.

Liam glanced at them from beneath his long bangs, which she longed to cut but which Patrick argued were a harmless sign of self expression, much easier to tolerate than tattoos or piercings. He was fiercely protective of the kids' right to determine their own identities, something his own father had denied him. "Morning, Mom."

"Good morning, sweetie. What are you two talking about so seriously?"

"I dunno," Liam said, giving his dad a curious look.

Patrick drew in a deep breath. "Visualize."

Even though she wasn't surprised, she couldn't keep the look of distaste off her face. "Well, that's a good way to ruin a beautiful morning."

Liam played a couple of chords, as if trying to get his thoughts to harmonize. "So what was up with them? Why kidnap a cop?"

Teresa thought about her answer, but Patrick spoke before she could. "You must have a theory, son. What do you think?"

"A trap for you?"

"A good theory, but wrong. Red John was tired of playing with me by then. He'd become interested in your mother and yes, he wanted to win her over. But what he mostly wanted was an heir with our combined traits."

Liam let the guitar slide to his lap. "He wanted me?"

"Our child, yes. He didn't know there were two of you; it was early in the pregnancy."

Teresa murmured, "Very early. We didn't even know until it was too late."

"I'm glad I didn't," Patrick admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. "It was bad enough thinking I might have lost you. I don't know how I would've coped if I'd known there were three of you at risk." His arms tightened around her waist.

Liam said, "Why not just have a kid of his own?"

Teresa said, "He told me that great leaders often stifle leadership ability in their own children without meaning to. He thought it would be better to have a child that wasn't his, so he'd be more objective toward him or her."

"Or him and her, in our case," Liam pointed out with a lopsided grin. "Boy would he have been in for a surprise."

Shivering, Teresa remembered her nightmares before the twins were born, long after Red John's death: him taking her babies away as they were born, then ordering the "weak" one killed. She was convinced it wouldn't have been far from the truth.

Patrick said, "The reason I'm telling you this is because, despite all the work Bret Stiles did to stamp out Red John's influence in Visualize, there may still be some crazy people out there who regard you and your sister as his heirs. Your mom and I have vetted nearly everyone you've ever met, not because we're crazy, but because we are protecting you from a very real danger."

He was going to turn Liam into a paranoiac, Teresa thought in alarm. "Real, yes, but unlikely. More unlikely with each passing year, in fact."

Liam frowned at his father but didn't seem unduly alarmed. "And you're bringing this up now because, what, you think Brett Mason is secretly a cult mastermind?"

Teresa watched him process the identical first names of Stiles and Mason, his scoffing expression fading.

"More like a pawn," Patrick said.

"We found a connection. A distant one that might just be a coincidence," Teresa emphasized.

Father and son chorused, "There's no such thing as coincidence."

She smiled. "Oh yes, there is. Sometimes people are just too attached to their complicated theories to admit it."

Patrick smirked at her. "Or maybe coincidence is just a word people use when they don't understand the brilliant theory that explains the situation." Then he let out a yelp as she punched him lightly in the shoulder, narrowly avoiding spilling coffee on them both.

"So," Liam said, used to his parents' playful bickering, "if anybody asks me if I'd like to join a cult, I say no. Got it."

"It won't be that simple," Patrick reproved.

"You can't seriously be worried Vic would fall into a cult. She'll never let anybody tell her what to think."

Teresa thought he underestimated the power of first love, but she merely said, "I hope not. But these people are good. They're subtle and well trained. They offer you what you want, twist your thinking around."

Liam frowned. "So how do I spot them?"

"Good question," she replied. She had worked for years with Haffner without realizing he was part of it. California law enforcement had turned out to be riddled with Visualize devotees.

Patrick said, "You can't, not a hundred percent of the time. What you can do is always know your own mind. Know who you are. Never let anyone convince you they can help you be a better person. The only people who will ever do that will never say so. Your mother made me the man I am today, but she didn't set out to. She made me want to be better because she was such a good person. But she didn't try to change what I believe in. She didn't try to change who I was." He grinned at her, knowing what she was thinking. "Though she did spend a lot of time trying to change my behavior in a professional capacity."

"Wasted time," Teresa grumbled.

Patrick chuckled. "Not entirely."

Teresa sipped her coffee, then leaned her head on his shoulder as Liam began playing again. After a few minutes, Victoria joined them, dressed in jeans and a nice blouse, surveying them all with a frown. "Why are you all sitting out here in your pajamas?"

Liam said, "I'm not."

His twin rolled her eyes at his sweatpants and T-shirt, which had seen better days. "Who can tell?"

He rolled his eyes right back. "If you're gonna try to make us into the perfect TV family for your boyfriend, get ready for failure."

"Don't you dare sabotage this!" she hissed.

Teresa decided to intervene. "Nobody's sabotaging anything. I think we can all manage to be dressed appropriately in the next four hours."

Patrick added, "What does everyone want for breakfast?"

"Cereal," Liam said.

"I'll just have plain toast," Victoria said.

"Boring," Patrick sighed. "What about my lovely wife?"

"Pancakes. I'll even help you out," she volunteered, sliding off his lap.

Victoria went back into the house as Patrick got up from his chair with a grimace. Liam asked, "You gonna tell her?"

Teresa and Patrick glanced at each other. "Of course," Patrick said. "When the timing is right."

She had to admit that their daughter wasn't exactly in a receptive mood right now. "But soon."

Liam nodded, seemingly satisfied.

mmm

Victoria grew more nervous as noon drew nearer, and Teresa was relieved when Patrick stepped in to calm her, as he had before recitals and competitions when she was younger. He took her wrist, and she let him, though she did roll her eyes for form's sake. "I'm fine, Dad. If you want to help, you could shave."

"You may be fine with acting like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, hissing and spitting at everyone, but I assure you the rest of us aren't. This is not a competitive event, princess. Everyone here loves you and wants what's best for you."

She wrinkled her nose a little. "Then you need to support me. I know what's best for me."

That would be unusual indeed, Teresa thought, given that she was a sheltered seventeen year old.

Patrick smiled gently. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

Victoria looked uncertain, but he'd said nothing she could argue with. Teresa admired her husband's skill at calming people down, wishing she'd seen more of it back at the CBI. Though she'd benefitted from it often enough, so she supposed she couldn't complain. Much.

Liam said, "Mom, Dad, I hereby promise that when I bring a girlfriend home, I won't act like the President is coming to visit."

Victoria shot him a quelling look, which he shrugged off with a grin that was almost identical to his father's. Teresa said, "We'll hold you to that. Particularly since, as you know, your father has the unfortunate habit of poking at bigwigs."

Victoria said, "Brett isn't a bigwig."

"No," Teresa agreed, "but you acting like he is one is winding your father up. So beware."

Victoria looked at Patrick in dawning alarm. He grinned, then relented. "Don't worry, princess. I'm on my best behavior."

"You promise?" She folded her arms.

"I promised your mother, so yes."

Victoria relaxed, and Teresa smiled. Everyone knew her husband kept his promises to her. It was something not every wife could be confident of, and she treasured it.

The doorbell rang. Victoria looked panic stricken for an instant, then took a deep breath and went to the door. Patrick and Liam came to stand on either side of Teresa, as if closing ranks. As Victoria opened the door, Patrick took Teresa's hand, and she gave it a squeeze.

The young man who walked in looked nervous behind his confident smile; Teresa recognized the expression as one she'd seen on her brothers' faces at that age. He was nice looking, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes, and his crisp button down shirt and unwrinkled khakis, as well as the small bouquet he carried, signaled that he wanted to impress them. All in all, he looked like the kind of boy a mother would want her daughter to date.

But once upon a time, so had Ray Haffner. She knew better than to rely on appearances.

"Mom, Dad, this is Brett."

Brett held out his hand to Patrick. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jane."

Patrick shook it, which gave Teresa a chance to look for signs that he was unhappy. She didn't see any, but she recognized the polite mask he was wearing. "Welcome to our home, Brett."

Brett turned to Teresa and handed her the flowers. "Thanks for inviting me, Mrs. Jane."

She smiled at him. Though she'd kept her own name, many of the twins' friends and their parents assumed she'd taken her husband's. She didn't bother correcting them anymore. "I'm glad to meet you, Brett. I've heard a lot about you."

"All good, I hope," he said with a nervous little chuckle.

Victoria took his arm. "Of course! And you know Liam. So that's everybody."

Patrick said, "You're not going to introduce him to Belle and Blueberry? Or the chickens?"

Victoria pursed her lips and said to Brett, "Belle is the dog and Blueberry is my old pony. The chickens don't count as pets; Dad just got them so he could have fresh eggs."

Liam said, "Next it'll be a cow for fresh milk."

"No," Teresa said firmly.

"I was actually thinking of expanding the herb and vegetable gardens," Patrick said.

"So you're a farmer?" Brett asked.

"No, just someone who likes to cook." Patrick let go of Teresa's hand and turned toward the kitchen. "Can I get you a drink, Brett? Or some tea? I need to get lunch started while the rest of you chat."

"No, thank you, sir."

"Put these in some water, please?" Teresa asked, handing Patrick the flowers.

"Of course." He smiled and gave her a quick kiss as he passed.

"Sit down," Teresa invited. She took her favorite chair, and Liam claimed the recliner, while Victoria and Brett settled on the couch. "So you play sports, Brett?"

"Basketball mostly, but some golf and tennis too. For fun. I'm not good enough to get a scholarship or anything," Brett said modestly.

"Where are you planning to go to school?" She hoped she was coming off as making friendly conversation rather than interrogating him. Victoria looked unperturbed, so she must not be doing too badly.

"I haven't decided yet, but I'm thinking of doing pre-law. I'm interested in the corporate side, not criminal law." Then he seemed to remember he was talking to an FBI supervisory agent. With a nervous smile, he added quickly, "I'll leave that to people braver than I am."

Teresa decided to let that pass. "I've met your parents at school programs, but remind me: what do they do?"

"Mom has her own business. She helps people sort through the junk and clutter in their houses and get organized. You'd be surprised how many people need help with that."

Teresa gave a wry smile. "No, I wouldn't. That must take a lot of patience."

"Oh yeah. She says it's almost like being a therapist. The junk is just a reflection of their mental baggage," Brett said. "My dad is an actual therapist. He specializes in helping people beat addictions."

All very Visualize-sounding, Teresa thought. And yet perfectly respectable.

"Not as exciting as what you do, of course," he continued. "Except once a patient found out where we lived and kept showing up at weird hours. It was freaky."

"I mostly do paperwork," Teresa said. "Nothing too exciting anymore. And Patrick recently retired. We're hoping to do some traveling."

Liam said, "We used to go on trips before Vic decided she couldn't leave her horse that long. The year we got confirmed, we all went to Rome and toured the Vatican. It was cool."

Teresa remembered the trip fondly. They'd all enjoyed it; even though Patrick wasn't religious, there was enough history and amazing art to hold his interest.

Victoria said, "We're trying to decide where to go for our graduation trip. Are you doing anything big for graduation?"

"Yeah, my grandparents are taking us all on a cruise. Should be fun."

"I've always wanted to go on a cruise," Victoria said.

"You should. It's great. We've done the Caribbean, and now we're going to do the Panama Canal."

Liam said, "Mom gets seasick."

"Unfortunately true. I've told Patrick he should take the kids without me, but he says it wouldn't be as much fun for him that way. So, Brett, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Two sisters and one brother, all younger. "

"I have three younger brothers," Teresa said. His siblings must be half siblings, but she liked that he didn't point that out. "How far apart are you?"

"Lori is fifteen, Rob is thirteen, and Allison is ten. Never a dull moment," Brett chuckled.

"I bet," Teresa smiled.

Victoria said, "Lori rides too. She does dressage. I've seen her; she's good."

Teresa wondered if the Masons also paid a ridiculous amount of money to board a horse at the riding school. It still rankled with her that she'd had to move to the country and the horse got to live in the city, even if it was the outskirts. But Patrick insisted it was too much trouble to haul June's Pride, familiarly known as Lady, back and forth. Teresa hated driving the truck with the horse trailer, so she saw his point, but then why couldn't they move to a nice townhouse closer to work?

Brett said, "All she talks about is horses. I'm glad you're not like that, Victoria."

Liam snorted; Teresa, having had more practice, kept a straight face. "Her father certainly tried to make sure the kids were exposed to a range of interests. Did you know she's quite the Celtic scholar?"

"Really?" Brett looked at Victoria, who shrugged.

"We're mostly Irish. I was interested as a kid. I tried to learn Gaelic, but it's tough to find a good teacher around here."

"Well, you're good at French, so I bet you could learn another language pretty easy," Brett smiled.

Patrick called, "Liam, could you set the table, please? Lunch is almost ready."

"I'll do it, Dad," Victoria said eagerly, getting up.

"May I help?" Brett offered.

"Sure."

Teresa looked at Liam as the young couple escaped. "So far, so good."

He grinned at her. "Dad's lulling him into complacency. Just wait until we're almost done eating."

Teresa had to admit he might be right. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"It's the simple joys that make life worth living," he smirked as he got up and headed for the kitchen.

He really was just like his father sometimes, she thought.

mmm

Lunch passed pleasantly; Patrick was good at small talk when he wanted to be. Victoria was all smiles, relaxed enough to eat a reasonable amount, and Brett seemed at ease as well.

Dessert was a fruit tart and homemade blueberry ice cream, which seemed to impress their guest. Teresa could practically see her daughter thinking she should take some cooking lessons from her father so she could impress Brett too and wondered if that had been Patrick's intent. She knew it was a disappointment to him that neither of his children were interested in learning more than the basics of feeding themselves.

"That was delicious, Mr. Jane. Thank you," Brett smiled as he finished his ice cream. "I've never had blueberry ice cream before."

"There's only so much cobbler, pie, and muffins my family will tolerate," Patrick explained.

"I told you not to plant so many blueberry bushes," Teresa reminded him.

He grinned. "You're just unhappy because you've eaten all the strawberries already." Then he looked at Brett. "The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach, Brett. Do you cook?"

"I can grill steaks," Brett said.

"A promising start. I heard you're thinking of law school, but what are your plans for your life?"

"Well, I was thinking corporate law—"

Patrick shook his head and interrupted, "No, no. That's just what you do for a living, not your life. The real measure of a man is what he does when he's not working. What do you do to nourish the essence of your identity?"

Brett stared at him, confused and slightly panicked. Teresa felt sorry for the kid. "Oh, come on, Patrick. That's not really a fair question, is it? Did you have a life plan at 18?"

"I did." He gave her a serious look. "I was going to run away with Angela, get rich as a psychic, and build a stable and secure life for my family. Which I did. But I did it without paying attention to the important things in life, so it all came crashing down around me. I'd like to pass along my hard won wisdom so the next generation doesn't have to learn my lesson the hard way."

Teresa looked down and bit her lip. She should have expected this, really. Patrick sometimes reacted oddly to the "firsts" his first daughter hadn't lived to experience. First boyfriend definitely counted.

Liam broke the silence. "Did Victoria ever mention we had an older sister?"

Brett frowned. "No."

"It's understandable," Liam said. "She's been dead a long time. A serial killer murdered her and her mom."

Victoria shot him a glare. "A long time ago."

"Yes," Teresa said. "It was. But Angela and Charlotte are a part of our family. Just like Grandpa Virgil. We won't see them again until we're done with this life, but we don't forget them."

There was another strained silence. Then Brett said, "I'm, uh, sorry for your losses. And I take your point, Mr. Jane. It's important to have spiritual beliefs. They keep you grounded. My dad thought about becoming a priest when he was young, so he's big on the whole church thing."

"Oh," Teresa said, "are you Catholic too?"

"No, Episcopal. And to answer the original question, I plan to become the best version of myself I can be," Brett said. "I know I have a long way to go, but I want to be someone who stands up for what he believes in and is loyal to those he loves. I think that's where you have to start to be successful."

Patrick said, "I can't disagree. Well, Brett, the meal is finished, so I suppose it's time to give my approval to this proposed dinner date. Where is it supposed to take place?"

"Argenziano's," Brett answered.

"An excellent choice. Have my daughter home by 11, or her mother will put you on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted List."

Brett and Victoria both beamed at him. Brett said, "Thank you, sir. We won't be late."

"Thanks, Dad," Victoria added, standing. "I need to get to practice. Can you drop me off, Brett?"

"I'd love to," he replied, getting up.

Teresa could only be grateful the meal was over. She was anxious to hear what Patrick had to say about it.

Liam helped clear the table, then said, "I've got some practice to do too. I'll be home for dinner."

"Have fun," Teresa called after him.

A few minutes later, the door closed behind Liam and his guitar case, and Teresa and Patrick were alone for the first time that day.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Seems like a normal kid."

"Uh huh." She leaned against the kitchen counter. "But is he?"

"Maybe."

Now he was just being irritating, she thought. "You have a hunch?"

Patrick smiled. "Always."

"But you're not going to tell me."

"Not until it's more than a hunch, no. What are your thoughts?"

"He has good manners," Teresa said. But then, most of the young people at Visualize had good manners. "And I think he's done some research. He didn't look very surprised to find out about your first family."

"No, he didn't. And Victoria didn't tell him. But he could have heard it from one of their other friends," Patrick said.

"Or just googled you."

"True. One meeting is not enough to draw firm conclusions."

"Since when?" she scoffed.

"So," Patrick said as if she hadn't spoken, "tell Moore about it on Monday and we'll see what happens. Meanwhile, surely we can think of a better way to spend our child-free afternoon than psychoanalyzing a teenage boy we've spent a grand total of two hours with."

"I have some paperwork I could do," she teased.

Patrick grinned, sliding an arm around her waist. "I bet I can make you forget all about it."

"Oh? Does the barn need painting?"

He chuckled. "No, Teresa. Romance is what I had in mind. Pretty soon the twins will be gone and we'll have a lot of time on our hands. We need to practice keeping each other occupied."

"I guess so," she smiled. "What do you have in mind?"

"How about a nice stroll and then a nap?"

"Sounds good."

He was always more forthcoming after sex, she reflected. Meanwhile an afternoon with him sounded like a great idea.

Hand in hand, they followed the well-worn path down to the little pond on the back of the property. Teresa was surprised to find a new wooden bench in place of the log they'd used as a seat for years. "When did you get this?"

"Last month. The log was falling apart, and at my age, I need back support," he replied as they sat down.

"It is a lot more comfortable," she said, leaning back.

Patrick toyed with her fingers. "I've been thinking about this new job of yours."

"I haven't made any decisions," she pointed out. "I haven't even met the AD I'd be reporting to."

"But you're interested. And maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to get out of California, if the kids are thinking about schools out east. I'd like to wait to sell this place so they don't feel homeless, but I'm open to moving."

"How much of your thinking is due to Visualize being headquartered here?"

"Some. But not all. This place is a lot of maintenance for an old man to handle."

"You're not old," she assured him.

"I'm getting there. And I think Washington is a better starting place for travel than Sacramento. There are lots of museums and historical sites for me to explore there. A change could be good for us; I don't want to be one of those old men who live in a routine, never doing anything new."

"But?"

"We can take Belle with us, but it's going to be tough to find a good home for Blueberry. He's really too old to be ridden anymore."

"Maybe we can find a caretaker to live here who'd look after him."

"And Lady will be boarded somewhere near Victoria, so no need to worry about her."

Teresa leaned over to kiss him. "Thanks for being open to it. I'll go ahead and pursue the job, then. But I won't make any decisions until we've talked about it as a family."

"Good. Because I'm not sure our nest is going to empty all at once."

That was a new idea. "Oh?"

"I'm going to suggest that Liam take a gap year. He's been thinking about it but hasn't figured out how to tell us he's not ready for college. But it doesn't make sense for him to pick a school before he has a good idea of what he wants to study."

Teresa frowned. "No, I guess it doesn't."

"Washington would be good for him too. Lots of cultural events and opportunities. Some good schools too if he wanted to check them out, get familiar with them."

"Ease into it, you mean?"

"Yes. I'm sure there's a community college he could take a few classes at if he wanted."

Teresa had to admit that might work better for their sensitive son than thrusting him into a new environment on his own. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I love how you take care of them."

Patrick kissed her hair. "I'm glad. Sometimes I worry I'm over-parenting."

"No. Over-parenting would be telling him to take a gap year. Telling him it's okay is entirely different. It lets him own the decision. And I love how you take care of me, too. I know how much you love it here."

"I love you," he replied. "My home is where you are, Teresa. That's been true for a very long time, almost since we met."

"It's mutual."

"Another thing about moving: it would push us to go out and explore. We could date."

Teresa chuckled. "We've been married eighteen years, and now you want to date?"

"We didn't get to, before. We were colleagues and friends, and then suddenly we were living together. He decided the pace of our relationship with his sick game. And then when he was gone, we had the twins to think about. We didn't get to focus on us. I want to do it now."

She felt her heart swell with love for him. "Me too," she said softly. "Me too."

He hugged her. "Then let's do it. You get your new job; I'll find us a swanky condo in DC that allows dogs and teenagers. And we'll have ourselves a new adventure."

As they kissed, Teresa thought that maybe her new job opportunity was a gift from God. It had certainly come at the right time to distract them from Brett Mason.

She refused to think that maybe it wasn't a coincidence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay on this chapter! I was traveling for business and then I got sick, and even though I was snowed in my house for four days, my fickle muse refused to let me be productive. I think we're back on track now though. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Jane was getting ready to start dinner Monday evening when his phone rang. He glanced over and saw it was FBI Special Agent Moore's number, so he answered it. "Stan! Angling for an invitation to dinner?"

"Always." Moore sounded cheerful, but Patrick had known him for 18 years now and knew it was an act. "Lisbon practically invited me when she told me you needed to talk, but I figured I'd better ask the cook."

"Come on over. We can talk after the kids scatter," Patrick replied.

"Be right there."

Patrick hung up, grateful that Moore had recently transferred back to California. He'd been all over the country since recruiting Patrick and Teresa to the FBI after his role in taking down Red John's network, but he was now running the San Francisco office. It was good to have someone Patrick could trust, who knew the background of the case, to look into the Masons.

Funny how things changed. He'd distrusted Moore initially, even threatening the agent after he'd prompted Teresa to break off their fake engagement, causing Red John to threaten her again. Patrick shivered as he remembered waking in Teresa's bed to find the bloody smiley face on the wall and his terror until he realized she was unhurt. He still wasn't sure what Red John would have done to her if he'd found her alone. Patrick was grateful he hadn't decided to wait until daybreak to persuade her to forgive him.

Those days were long behind them. Moore had proven himself in the end, and they'd all had nearly two decades of relative peace and safety. Patrick had no desire to relive any of his dark past, and even less for his children to be touched by it. Liam had seemingly taken the revelation in stride, but Victoria would not.

Maybe it would be better coming from Moore, he thought. An outside authority might be more palatable as a source than her parents, much as he hated to admit it. She wouldn't be able to dismiss the warning as one more manifestation of their alleged overprotectiveness.

Teresa hadn't wasted any time alerting Moore, he noted. Obviously she was more concerned than she was letting on. He disliked it when she pretended with him, and he would see that they discussed it sometime soon. She rarely tried to hide anything important from him, and he never hid anything from her. Well, not anything important. Not very often.

As he chopped, stirred, and sautéed, he pondered the question of what Teresa was thinking. Was she having flashbacks to their time at CBI, afraid he would run off and do something she deemed unwise? Even though it had been more than a decade since they'd worked together?

Maybe. He'd been having bad dreams ever since he'd started thinking about Visualize again. It wouldn't surprise him if she was too. Revisiting those days in her dreams might well make her start treating him like he was the fragile man she'd married.

He couldn't have that. He never wanted to be that man again; the man he was now was a far better husband and father. As his family stood on the brink of massive changes, he wanted to be a source of stability for them, not one more thing they had to deal with.

The front door opening interrupted his train of thought, and Victoria called, "Dad?"

"In the kitchen," he called back.

He heard the sound of backpacks being tossed by the front door, and a minute later Victoria and Liam came in, raiding the fridge for drinks and a snack and settling at the table.

"How was your day?" he asked.

Liam shrugged as usual, but Victoria replied, "Hannah got a new car. Why can't I have a car of my own?"

"You can," Patrick said, "when you need one. Right now you don't." If it was up to him, he'd go buy her a flashy new convertible tomorrow, but it wasn't. He reluctantly trusted Teresa to keep him from spoiling the kids rotten, and she was firm about this particular subject.

"I'll need one for college."

"You don't know that until you decide which college," he pointed out.

"You could at least teach me to drive the Citroen."

Jane turned to look at her. "You want to?"

"Sure. Will you?"

"I'd be happy to." His trusty old car sat in part of the barn he'd converted to a suitable garage. He'd driven it on weekends for years and more often since he'd retired, but he realized with a pang that it probably wouldn't be going to DC with him. "I didn't think you'd be interested in my old car."

"I'd like to learn to drive a stick shift."

Ah, he thought. Brett must be a car guy in addition to being a jock. "It's a useful life skill," Patrick agreed. "Liam, you interested in lessons too?"

"Sure. It's a cool car."

"A man after my own heart," Patrick smiled. "Your mother won't be wild about it, but as long as she doesn't have to ride in it, I think we'll be okay." With lessons, at least. She probably wouldn't want her babies driving around on their own in a car without airbags. But Patrick had no intention of allowing them to indulge in any teenage hijinks in his classic car, so they were actually on the same page. "We can start this weekend."

"Sounds like fun. What time's dinner?" Liam finished his snack and carried his dishes to the sink.

"Your mom texted that she'll be home on time. We're having company. You remember Stan Moore, my old partner?"

"Yeah, I guess." He left the room, and a few minutes later loud music began throbbing through the ceiling, quickly turned down to a bearable level.

Victoria finished her snack and put her dishes and Liam's in the dishwasher. Then, to Patrick's surprise, she came over to stand beside him at the kitchen island. "What're you cooking?"

"Chicken cacciatore. Since we're having company, I thought I'd make dessert. Would you care to slice some strawberries?"

"Beats calculus homework." She grabbed the bowl of strawberries on the counter and began rinsing them.

Did she want to talk, or was he blinded by hope? Patrick watched her out of the corner of his eye as she settled in to work beside him. Picking a safe topic, he asked, "How is Lady?"

"Okay. We've got a good chance in the show next week. I wish you'd let me do puissance."

"You'd need a new horse for that," he observed. Lady was a decent jumper, but she'd never make the crazy high jumps. "If you're serious, we can look for one once you're settled at college."

She shrugged but didn't respond. After a moment, she said, "Are you okay with me going to college out east?"

"Sure. Your mom and I are just waiting for you kids to pick your schools before we buy a house equidistant from you both," he teased.

"Seriously, Dad."

"Seriously, Victoria. Anyway, your mom's been turning down promotions for years so we could stay here. We may be moving too."

"Really?"

"She's up for a big job on the east coast, we just found out. Nothing's for sure yet, though. But you don't need to worry about us."

"Huh. Well, that's good. New York?"

"Washington."

"Brett got into Harvard. He just found out."

"Good for him." Patrick knew she hadn't applied there, but she had applied to Mount Holyoke. "That's a great school, especially if he does go into the law."

"He'll make a great lawyer."

"He seems like a promising young man."

She rolled her eyes at his phrasing. "He said you and Mom weren't how he expected. Since you had to get married."

"We got married because we love each other. You and your brother were born ten months into our marriage," Patrick said, frowning. What had Brett been telling her?

"Not like that. Because of Red John. He made you get married, didn't he?"

Patrick grimaced. "He wanted us to, yes. But we wouldn't have gone through with it if we hadn't loved each other. We both take marriage very seriously. So Brett's been reading up on us, hm?"

"He wants to know about me, so that includes you."

"So by that logic, you should be researching him."

She looked surprised. "Why? I can read him like an open book. I don't need to go poking around in his past."

"Ah, but if you want to know how he'll be when he's older, you should take a good look at his parents. Their marriage will be his example, for better or worse." Jane turned back to the stove for a moment. Then he added, "Just like your mom and I's marriage is your subconscious example."

She thought about that for a minute. "So what was your example?"

"Well, I guess Sam and Pete, really. Since I don't remember my parents' marriage. Your mom at least remembers her parents together from when she was young, so I think in some ways being married came more naturally to her."

"But you were married before."

"Yes, but I was a different man then. I took things for granted. I didn't treasure Angela and Charlotte like I should have. Since I was given a second chance, I try to take a few minutes each day to be grateful for you and your brother and your mom. And I try to treat you all in a way that I wouldn't regret if I were unable to apologize."

"Easier said than done," she muttered.

He knew she was thinking of her own behavior, not his, so he didn't take offense. "Yes, it is."

"So...how did you know Mom was the one then?"

Patrick smiled. "It's not something you know. It's something you feel."

Victoria looked at him, frowning in confusion. "How does it feel, then?"

He hummed a little as he thought about it. "I can't imagine waking up knowing I won't see her. She makes my life make sense. She gave me a reason to get up and keep going when I had nothing else to live for. She was the light in my life when I was trapped in darkness." He smiled at his daughter. "None of which is helpful to you, since your life is as devoid of darkness as we can make it. I think the best advice I can give you is that the right person will be your partner. He'll respect you, be invested in your success, and be there for you when it's all falling apart around you. And above all, he'll be someone you can trust, who's proven his loyalty."

"So you don't believe in love at first sight?"

"Oh, I do. But that's not a lasting kind of love. The love that lasts is built over time. Sometimes people get lucky and find both kinds with the same person, but you don't want to confuse the two. I didn't fall in love with your mother at first sight, though I liked her right away." He thought for a moment. "Angela though...I fell for her pretty hard and fast."

"Was she your first love?"

"First real love, yes. I've only truly loved two women, her and your mother. But there were a few others here and there. It's, it takes a while to know the difference between attraction and love. Especially if you're the kind of person who's attracted to personality types who aren't good for you."

"Like what?" He had her full attention now, he saw.

"Well, I have a tendency to be drawn to devious people, I guess because they're hard to figure out. Working in law enforcement brought me into contact with some women who were both beautiful and devious, and I was drawn to them." Better not to get into details, he knew. "Your mom tried to warn me, every time. I didn't always listen to her, but I should have. And she was right, of course. You can't build a life with someone who's fundamentally dishonest. It was your mom's goodness, her honesty, that let me trust her enough to build a life with her. It would be a tragedy to let yourself fall in love with someone you can't trust. That's how so many of our cases started at the CBI."

Victoria went back to her bowl of strawberries. "So you're saying love is a choice?"

"You can't control attraction, but love needs time to grow. So yes, in a way it is a choice. Most people don't pay much attention to controlling their thoughts and emotions, but with practice, you can channel both in more productive ways than if you just yield to every impulse. My father taught me to control myself very young, because a con artist can't afford to lose control. But it served me well in other aspects of my life."

She was almost an adult now, he reminded himself. He should trust her with the truths she would find useful, if she heeded them. "It feels good to let go. It's tempting. But I'm not sure your mother and I would have made it if I'd just let go in those early days. There was so much pressure and danger, and she was terrified of commitment and I was terrified of history repeating itself. We both had to be thoughtful and remember to take care of each other. Not to say everything we were thinking at the time we were thinking it. Not to take our stress out on each other." Which was exactly what Teresa was doing now, he realized, keeping silent until she was sure he could handle it.

Victoria shook her head a little. "You always have to be in control of everything, don't you?"

"Self control is tragically undervalued in our culture," Patrick said. "I think you'll find that it's a trait most successful people have cultivated, though."

This wasn't the first time she'd heard that from him, so he wasn't surprised that she rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "How did you meet Angela?"

He should have expected this, he knew. Of course his daughter felt his first marriage was more relevant to her circumstances, since his and Teresa's love story had involved chasing a serial killer. "Her family were carnie royalty. She was, as they used to say, above my touch. But I was a cocky young man and I loved a challenge. My dad encouraged me because he thought if I had her under my spell we could write our own ticket with her family, who owned the show we joined after I graduated from my Boy Wonder act."

"So you pursued her?"

Patrick chuckled. "I was smarter than that, Princess. I ignored her and flirted with every other girl she knew."

"And she fell for that?"

"No. She was smart as a whip, and she knew a con man when she met one. She ignored me right back. I was finally forced to just ask her out. Three times." He smiled at the memory. "She was the only person besides my father I couldn't manipulate. I knew pretty quickly I'd met my match."

"I guess you wouldn't want someone you could get your own way with all the time."

Patrick shuddered. "How boring would that be?"

She smirked. "Boredom is the worst."

"Yes, it is." He seized on the chance to change the subject. "You should ask your mom about her young love. She was quite the heartbreaker."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Ask her about Greg." That story would nicely puncture any fantasies Victoria had about first love being destiny, he hoped.

His daughter was quiet as he put the finishing touches on the cacciatore and she put together the parfaits. Then they started making the salad, her chopping vegetables while he mixed the strawberry vinaigrette.

"If Angela were still alive, would you still be together?"

The question hit him like a sucker punch. He actually felt dizzy for a second. There were so many emotional land mines to tiptoe past as he constructed his answer. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I want to say yes, because I was committed to her and very committed to making sure Charlotte grew up with both her parents. But Angela hated what I did for a living, and I think as Charlotte got older she would eventually have given me an ultimatum. And I don't know if the man I was then would have been able to face such a big change and find an honest way to make a living. Our values weren't completely aligned, and I'm not sure what it would have taken for me to change mine, short of what actually did."

He wondered if she had any idea what that admission cost him. It was, in the end, his worst failure as a husband. He'd tried very hard not to repeat it with his second family.

"Which values?"

"Values are always basic. I saw people as tools I could use to achieve my ends, and Angela saw them as kindred spirits, some of whom she could help. After...after she was gone, I tried to honor her by helping the ones I could. But it was Teresa who taught me how to be compassionate, because I was ready to learn. Her example showed me I could be kind without being weak and be helpful without being a sucker." He took a deep breath to steady himself for his next statement. "If I'd met your mother when I was young, I wouldn't have been even remotely attracted to her. I would have thought she was a mark. And she would have been far more interested in putting me behind bars than getting to know me. We both mellowed as we matured."

He wanted to tell Victoria that someday she would look back at the person she was today and marvel at how much she didn't know, but he knew she wouldn't believe him.

"So basically you're saying those matchmaking apps are onto something?"

"Mm, maybe. We humans are complicated creatures, so I don't think you can reduce compatibility to an algorithm. They might help you identify potential, though. Why? Have you been checking out you and Brett in a quiz or something?"

She blushed like her mother when she was trying to hide embarrassment at being caught out. "No, of course not," she lied.

Patrick grinned. He was very curious about what she'd discovered, but he knew she wouldn't tell him. The fact that she was asking questions about love indicated she'd found space for doubt, though, and that could only be a good thing. He wanted her to question everything. He wanted her to avoid getting hurt, though he knew that was inevitable.

Time to lighten the atmosphere, though. "Do you know the key to a great salad?"

"Fresh ingredients," she guessed.

"Critical, yes. But I would argue the real key, the make or break piece, is the dressing." He held up the glass bottle in which he'd assembled the ingredients, tightened the cap, and began shaking it, dancing in place as if playing maracas.

Victoria rolled her eyes, but he saw the grin she was hiding, reassuring him that his little girl was still there underneath the teenager. His heart swelled with love for her, soothing the pang that sometimes arose when he thought about his daughter. Would Charlotte have been like this? He thought so, but he could never know.

He put down the bottle, and Victoria leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment, sensing his wistfulness. Then she kissed his cheek, grimacing at the feel of his beard, and said, "You know, Charlotte would have brought home a biker with a bunch of tattoos, just to see you freak out."

Patrick grinned. Victoria was very good at reading him when she wanted to be, and he'd told her stories of her mischievous older sister since she was old enough to understand. "You're probably right. Thank you for your restraint."

"Well, I am a responsible adult," she grinned, tossing her hair. Then she made her exit, having inherited his sense of timing.

The front door opened as she left, and he heard her say, "Hi Mom. Hey, after dinner will you tell me about Greg?" Then he heard her laugh, presumably at having rendered her mother speechless, and run up the stairs.

"Patrick!" Teresa called in annoyance, and he chuckled. When she came into the kitchen a few seconds later, she returned his greeting kiss but frowned at him. "What have you been up to?"

"Just chatting with Victoria about first loves. I thought your experience might be helpful for her to consider. Stan Moore called, so I invited him to dinner. He'll be here any minute."

"That was fast." She bit her lip. "Does he know something we don't?"

"Everyone knows at least one thing we don't," Patrick replied. "We'll find out soon enough. I mentioned possibly moving to Victoria today, and she took it well. Brett got accepted to Harvard so I think she's leaning toward Mount Holyoke."

"I talked to AD Abbott today. He wants me to come out and meet with him. I'd love it if you'd come with me. I think the kids are old enough to be on their own for a couple of nights."

Patrick had a brief flash of his beloved home being trashed by a horde of unsupervised teens. "As long as neither of you is harboring any hope you can talk me out of retirement."

"Oh, I know better than that. How could matters of national security possibly compete with cooking and cleaning?"

"Precisely." She was being sarcastic, but he wasn't. "But I'll gladly let the FBI put us up in a nice hotel where we can order room service and let someone else worry about changing the sheets."

She smiled. "It won't be as much fun as our trip to Seattle when we were engaged, but I think I can make it worth your while."

"Good. I'm not sure my old heart could take a trip like Seattle," he chuckled, holding a hand to his chest. "Not to mention my liver."

"It's not your liver I'm interested in," she winked. "I'll make the arrangements. How much time do I have before dinner?"

"Ten minutes, or until Stan gets here, whichever comes last."

"I guess I won't change, then."

"Never change, my dear." Patrick leaned forward for another kiss.

The doorbell interrupted them, and Patrick checked to make sure all was well with the meal before going with Teresa to answer it.

"Stan!" Patrick smiled as he opened the door. "My, don't you look...old."

"Nice beard," Stan replied. "So retirement means letting yourself go, huh? I'm still available if you want to upgrade, Lisbon."

She laughed. "Keep talking like that and you're likely to leave here quacking like a duck."

"Oh no, I worked with this one long enough to be wise to his tricks. Note that I'm not making eye contact."

"You've come a long way from that cocky young profiler who didn't know any better than to take the Red John case," Patrick said. "But hitting on my wife right in front of me tells me you've only gotten older, not wiser."

Moore laughed. "Sad but true, if I thought there was any hope. So what's for dinner? I hope you haven't lost your culinary skills."

"Like myself, they've improved with time," Patrick assured him. "Dinner's almost ready. Come in and sit down."

"So," Moore said to Teresa as they went into the living room, "you're up for that new task force in DC, huh? I guess there's nobody in the FBI who knows more about innovative crime solving techniques than you do. I hear they're recruiting a profiler and a techno wiz for the team too."

"That's the plan," she said. "Since Patrick is retired, I'll have to make do with some Quantico trained profiler new enough to not be set in his ways. I'm hoping to coax Cho onto the team too. I want someone I know and trust. What do you know of Abbott?"

"I only know his reputation. Hard nosed, tough but fair, that kind of thing. Not afraid to take risks."

Patrick frowned. Even though Teresa had said she wouldn't be in the field, this was sounding politically if not physically dangerous. "Does he look after his people?"

"I think so, yes."

He needed to find out more about this job. It was good he was going with Teresa to Washington.

The oven timer beeped, and Patrick went to see to it as Teresa called the kids to come to the table. As he bustled around the kitchen he heard them come down the stairs and greet Moore, whom they'd known as children.

The meal went well; Moore encouraged the twins to tell him about their interests and future plans, interspersed with his funny stories of not terribly bright criminals. But as they were finishing dessert, Liam asked, "So Uncle Stan, did you come to talk to us about Visualize?"

Moore had worked with Patrick too long to be easily thrown off balance. "If you like," he said. "Since Bret Stiles' death, they've kept a low profile. But recently there've been rumors of his return. Or of an heir being discovered. Wishful thinking, most likely, but given their history we're watching closely."

Liam nodded. "Is it true some people think my sister and I are supposed to be his heirs?"

Moore shook his head. "No, Red John intended you to be his heir, not Stiles'. Though he was positioning himself as Stiles' successor, so I guess indirectly you might be right."

Victoria looked at them like they were nuts. "What are you talking about?"

Teresa said, "Red John kidnapped me while I was pregnant with you, because he wanted an heir who'd be smart and tough, but not related to him. That's why we've been so protective of you both, because we were afraid someone in Visualize would try to carry out his plan."

Victoria blinked. Then, obviously suspecting she might be the victim of a joke, she looked at Moore, then her mother. "You're kidding. That's crazy."

Moore said, "Crazy is kind of how Visualize operates."

"Why are you worried now?" she demanded.

"You're getting ready to leave home. They haven't been able to approach you before because your parents have kept an eye out for them, but now they'll have their chance, if they're interested."

Victoria seemed unalarmed. "Well, I'm not interested in any cult, so they're out of luck."

Patrick said, "Glad to hear it. Although they don't tend to ask what your interests are. They're sneaker than that."

"Well, I know sneaky when I see it. I am a Jane, after all."

Moore laughed. "Sneaky does run in the family, then, hm? Hopefully the stubbornness does too. Don't let some handsome young charmer talk you into anything, Victoria."

She stiffened. "Is that what this is about? You're investigating Brett?"

"Not investigating, no. But it's interesting that his mother was born into Visualize."

In dismay, Patrick recognized the beginnings of an angry outburst. Victoria said, "Brett can't help where his mother was born. Any more than I'm to blame for my dad going around shooting people."

"Hey," Patrick protested.

"And I think it's wrong for the FBI to harass a high school kid who's never done anything wrong! It's intrusive and probably unconstitutional!"

Teresa said, "No one is investigating Brett. All that's happened is a basic background check, which brought this information to light. We're sharing it with you to make you aware that some of the people you meet, but certainly not all, may have ulterior motives for getting close to you. No one is accusing Brett or his family of anything."

"They'd better not!" Victoria pushed back her chair roughly and stormed out of the room.

"Well," Liam said, "that went well."

Teresa sighed. "Would you like some wine, Stan?"

"I would, yes."

Liam got up and began clearing the table as his mother uncorked a bottle of red, pouring three glasses.

"Sorry," Moore apologized.

"Don't be," Patrick said. "There was no way to tell her that wasn't going to infuriate her. I hoped you'd have more credibility, not being her parent, but I didn't expect she'd take it well."

"Well, she's right that we have no grounds to investigate the Masons, unless something else happens. Call me immediately if something does."

"We will. Hey, I have a favor to ask. Teresa and I are going to DC for a couple of days. Would you be willing to keep an eye on things here? The kids are pretty self sufficient, but given the Visualize angle, I'd rather they have an adult around."

"Sure, as long as you leave some meals in the freezer. I don't cook, you know."

Patrick chuckled. "I remember. Thanks, Stan."

"My pleasure, Patrick."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thanks for your patience and support! One note about this chapter: yes, the FBI is currently in downtown Washington, but planning to move and will have done so long before the year this story takes place in. Since I'm a Virginian, I picked the potential site in my state. :)

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

"I don't see why we have to have a babysitter," Victoria sulked as Patrick loaded suitcases into the car. "You're only going to be gone two nights. Liam and I are perfectly capable of getting along without supervision for that long."

Teresa stifled a sigh. They'd been having this conversation all through breakfast. "Yes, you are. Stan is not a babysitter. He is here for your protection."

"We wouldn't need someone else to protect us if you'd teach us to shoot."

"I'm happy to take you to the range when I get back," Teresa replied. Patrick wouldn't be happy about it, but then she wasn't happy he was planning to let them drive his ancient car, so they'd be even. "But meanwhile, your father and I will be able to enjoy our trip much more knowing a highly trained FBI agent is watching out for you."

Liam had been mostly silent since she'd told them she was taking Patrick with her to DC. He wasn't making a fuss, but she could see his discomfort even before he said, "What are you expecting to happen? That a band of bad guys will burst in the door and kidnap us?"

Teresa wished she could laugh at the idea. "Nothing so dramatic. But this place is pretty isolated, and if you need help, you'll probably need it faster than 911 can deliver."

"You're being ridiculous," Victoria said.

"Maybe, but you're not changing my mind, and even if you could, your father would have a nervous breakdown before we crossed the Mississippi if he knew you were home alone." She decided not to tell them the stories of sleepover stakeouts, GPS trackers sewn into clothing, and gratuitous hypnosis of school staff that had marked their elementary school years. "You know what happened the last time he left his first family alone. It's not asking too much for us to spare him worry. Is it?"

Victoria pouted. "It's not the same. He's left us before when you were home."

"Because he has many years of evidence that I can protect myself and others."

Patrick returned to them. "More years than I care to count, yes. Look at it this way: Stan is much too highly qualified to be a mere babysitter. Think of him as an entertaining guest with many amusing stories, some of which your old dad might find mildly embarrassing."

"Mildly?" Teresa couldn't resist murmuring.

"I'm sure our children will be able to appreciate the brilliance of my schemes. Unlike a lamentable number of people in law enforcement," Patrick said with dignity.

Teresa grinned at him. "Uh huh."

He ignored her. "I expect you both to treat Stan with the hospitality you'd show any guest in our home. It's just for three days. We'll be home for the big event on Saturday."

Victoria grimaced. "Don't rush home on my account. It's just dinner."

Patrick dropped his teasing grin. "I've been there for all your firsts, Princess. I'm not missing your first official date. Now, hugs all around. Your mom and I have to go or we'll miss our plane."

Teresa hugged her son, trying to hide how choked up she became. "We'll call when we get to the hotel," she told Liam.

"Tell Uncle Cho hi," he replied, managing a smile for her before he turned to hug his dad.

Teresa turned to her daughter. "Just because I'm not here to make you take off eye shadow before you leave for school doesn't mean the principal won't."

"Yes, Mom." Victoria sighed dramatically. "I'm well aware that any behavior you don't like will be used against me next time I want to be treated like an adult."

She might look like a Jane, but she had the Lisbon sarcasm, Teresa thought wryly. "Yes it will. And don't you forget it." Then she smiled and hugged her. "Have fun with Stan."

"Yeah, right," Victoria said.

"Love you guys," Teresa said. She never, ever left without making sure she said it, in case she never came back like her mother.

"Love you, Mom," they chorused.

"I love you. Be safe," Patrick reminded them.

"Love you too, Dad," Victoria said.

Liam said, "Love you. Have a safe trip."

Teresa let her gaze linger on them for a moment, then turned to get in the car as she felt tears threaten.

Patrick was already in the passenger seat fastening his seat belt. "They'll be fine."

"Of course they will," she said firmly, knowing he was trying to convince himself as well as her.

mmm

Teresa disliked flying, but having Patrick along made it better. He knew when to distract her, and he made a wonderful pillow. He was also shameless about charming extras out of the flight attendants, which was both annoying and, on a long flight, helpful. Maybe traveling more after the twins left home wouldn't be a bad idea, she thought as she sipped the water he'd gotten in anticipation of her waking up.

"We're almost there," he told her when she finished. "Cho's meeting us at the airport and taking us to dinner, then on to the hotel. He says there's no need to rent a car."

"It'll be good to see him." It had been several years, though they were in touch frequently. She was looking forward to having a long chat and getting his take on her potential new job.

"Yes, it will." There were few people Patrick really liked and even fewer he respected, but Cho was one of them, she knew.

"Liam messaged us. He's going to leave rehearsal early so he'll be home to greet Stan. Victoria should be home after practice."

"She'll behave," Teresa predicted. "She won't risk getting grounded this weekend."

Patrick huffed a brief laugh. "She'll do anything she thinks she won't get caught at. Just like I did at that age."

"Fortunately Stan knows you pretty well, so he should be able to handle her."

Patrick reached for her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. "Are you planning to give her a refresher on the sex talk before her date?"

Teresa sighed. "I'm sure she remembers it just fine."

"It doesn't hurt to remind her of our expectations. Do you want me to do it?"

Teresa looked at him, wondering if he'd just said what she thought he'd just said. "What?"

"No need to look so shocked, my dear. I'm not the one with all the religious inhibitions about sex. I'm perfectly capable of talking with our daughter about her physical urges—and possibly more to the point, Brett's—and the reasons she shouldn't allow them to prevail over her good judgment. And what she should do if she chooses to disregard our advice."

Was it okay to take the easy way out, just this once? "She might take it better from you."

"Let's hope so. Since we can't outsource this to Stan." He grinned.

Teresa looked down at their joined hands. "How are we going to let her go off on her own, Patrick? She's so confident she can outsmart anybody, talk her way out of anything. But she has no idea what some people are capable of."

Patrick grimaced, looking down for a moment. "She'll most likely learn her lesson the hard way. Hopefully not as hard a way as I did."

Teresa's free hand went to her cross, and she said a quick prayer for the souls of Angela and Charlotte and that Victoria's lesson would be less painful than Patrick's. They had both tried so hard not to let arrogance take root in their confident daughter, but it had crept in despite their efforts. "Maybe she'll wise up as she gets a wider perspective."

"We can hope," Patrick said. "And I do, believe me."

The pilot announced they would be landing shortly, and Patrick lifted their hands to his lips, kissing her fingers. "Almost there."

Teresa returned his smile, thinking how complicated he was. Patrick was a creature of habit; there was no denying that. But he also loved discovering new places and learning new things. It was his high intelligence, she thought, that required the stimulation of new adventures even as his heart longed for a comfortable routine.

That, she realized, was why he had never taken one of the many trips he suggested once she said she couldn't go: she was his comfort, the familiarity he needed while he explored new things.

She definitely needed to retire while they were still able to travel.

mmm

Landing went smoothly, and they met Cho just outside baggage claim, his hair gone a distinguished salt and pepper but otherwise much the same as she remembered. He gave a broad smile as he saw them and hugged her. "Good to see you," he told her.

"You too. Thanks for coming to meet us." She beamed with happiness at seeing him again.

"My pleasure. Hey, Jane. Nice beard."

Jane chuckled as he hugged his old friend. "You hate it too, huh? Wait til you retire."

"Who says I'm retiring? I'm not stopping until I'm the director," Cho said in his usual deadpan. Teresa wasn't sure he was joking, but Patrick grinned.

"Let me know how I can help. I'd vote for you for President."

"Too much fundraising." Cho led the way to the tram to take them to the main terminal. Dulles was a large international airport, Teresa observed. It would have been more convenient to fly into Reagan National, but most flights from the West Coast went into the bigger airport.

Cho's SUV was in hourly parking, a short walk from the terminal, and soon they were on the road toward the city. Patrick had chosen the back seat, and it gave Teresa a bittersweet deja vu to be riding next to Cho again. "So how have you been?" she asked.

"Good. I like it here. Interesting cases. And the city has a lot of energy. It's nice to not be on the road all the time anymore."

Teresa's heart sank. "My new job will probably involve travel. If I get it," she added conscientiously.

"Abbott would be a fool to pass you up," Cho said. "And he's not a fool."

Patrick asked, "How well do you know him?"

"Pretty well. I worked for him in Austin for a couple years when I first joined. Then his wife got a big job at Commerce and he transferred here. After I took this job, my boss told me Abbott gave me a strong recommendation."

Teresa wasn't sure what to make of Patrick's interest in her potential new boss. He'd been the one to separate their careers years ago, not wanting her to suffer for his methods. She hoped that he wasn't planning to manage her career now that he had to let go of managing the twins. On the other hand, maybe if he was concerned about her success, he'd consider coming out of retirement. She'd rather have him than a whole roomful of profilers.

She asked, "So you'd work with him again?"

"Sure, especially if it means working with you."

She smiled. "If I get it, there's definitely a place for you on the team."

"I'm there. Jane, you in?"

Leave it to Cho to ask the question she hadn't dared pose.

Patrick chuckled. "I'm retired. Besides, the two of you know almost all my tricks. What do you need me for?"

Cho said, "Knowing them and pulling them off are two different things."

"I've seen both you and Teresa pull off some fantastic interrogations."

"We won't be doing any interrogations in this job."

Patrick was silent for a moment. "Because it's national security stuff, not homicides?"

Teresa was heartened by his interest. "Yes. Our job will be to spot patterns and try to stop crimes before they happen. Which you always said we should do."

"So basically you'll be spying on people."

"I wouldn't put it that way," Teresa said. "We won't be randomly listening to phone calls or anything. We'll be focused on crimes or incidents that have already occurred and the people involved, keeping in mind that some, maybe most, of them will be innocent citizens."

Patrick hummed a little; she could practically see him tapping his lips. "Hunting terrorists?"

Cho said, "Other teams specialize in that."

"There might be some," Teresa added, "but we're mostly interested in how criminals become criminals. Not just onetime impulsive crimes, but people who get drawn into groups. Not just terrorists, but drug rings, counterfeiters, cybercrime, anything that people work together to do. If we can identify patterns, maybe we can disrupt their labor pipeline."

"What about cults?"

Teresa grimaced. "Belonging to a cult is not illegal. We'd only investigate criminal activity."

"Sounds like the kind of thing some people would characterize as government overreach," Patrick observed.

"That's where the innovation comes in. We have to do this within the boundaries of the law," she said.

"Hm." Patrick's non-reply meant he was unconvinced.

Cho said, "Do you guys mind if I bring someone to dinner tomorrow?"

Teresa looked at him in surprise. "Of course not! Are you seeing someone?"

"Yeah."

"Good." His last relationship had ended before he left Austin, she remembered. "We'd love to meet her. And we will both be on our best behavior," she said, looking over her shoulder at her husband.

Patrick smiled at her. "Of course. What's her name?"

"Leila. And I've warned her about you."

Teresa decided to intervene. "I have some meetings with people AD Abbott thinks might be good for the team. Can you sit in?"

"I'll do my best. Is one of them Jason Wylie?"

"Yes. You know him?"

"Yeah, in Austin. Good man, brilliant with computers and takes initiative. His wife came to my team there as a rookie and turned into a fine agent." Cho turned off the airport road and made a few turns into a restaurant parking lot. "Let's get some beers and you can tell me about this boyfriend of Victoria's."

"Not much to tell," Patrick said.

"That's not what I hear," Cho replied. "Grace doesn't like it."

Teresa got out of the car and said, "Seems like an okay kid."

"Sure," Patrick said. "Just your average teenage boy who wants to be the best version of himself when he grows up."

Teresa stopped walking. The phrase hadn't struck her at the time, but the emphasis Patrick used reminded her that Bret Stiles had said it.

Cho frowned. "You think he's Visualize?"

"He's had exposure to some of their ideas," Patrick said. "He's done some research on us. The question is, is that an indication that he's up to something, or just someone messing with us?"

"Or just a coincidence." Teresa felt they had to consider the possibility.

Cho looked grim, but he didn't comment as they entered the restaurant and were shown to a table. They ordered beers and nachos and settled in to look at their menus. Teresa was relieved by their low key surroundings; in her experience, the best Mexican restaurants tended to be the ones tucked away off the beaten path.

Patrick said, "So what do you know about this new team? Whose idea was it, and how long has it been in the works?"

He looked from Cho to her, posing the question to them both. "I have the impression it was Abbott's idea."

"Could be," Cho said. "He's a risk taker, and there are rumors he might have gone rogue in a joint DEA operation early in his career."

"Yes, but who supported him?" Patrick pressed. "Someone higher up."

"I don't know," Cho said.

Teresa shrugged. "I can ask Abbott tomorrow. What are you thinking?"

"The timing is interesting. You haven't been available before now, so the fact that this hasn't happened before may indicate this position was designed for you. Your talents deserve recognition, but generally speaking, bureaucracies don't arrange themselves for an individual's convenience. I want to know if there's a secondary motive."

Cho said, "Getting you out of California now, you mean? Think Visualize is planning something?"

"Stan says there are rumors of an heir," Patrick told him.

"There're always rumors, ever since Stiles died," Teresa said. She made it her business to keep an ear to the ground on Visualize in a general way, though she hadn't heard anything in a while until she'd poked around after meeting Brett Mason.

Cho took a drink of his beer. "Do you think it's about your kids?"

Patrick took a nacho and ate it with every appearance of carefree enjoyment, which didn't fool Teresa for a moment. Not Cho either, she saw. "Victoria's going to college out east, most likely. If they wanted us out of her reach, moving us here doesn't make sense."

"What about Liam?"

"He's probably taking a gap year."

Cho smiled. "Good, then I can take him to a game or two this fall. It's been too long."

"He'll love that," Teresa said. Liam always had loved his Uncle Cho. Since they were both introverts, they had a natural rapport.

"Yes, he will," Patrick agreed. "Does Leila like baseball?"

"Not to watch on TV, but she likes going to the stadium," Cho said. "And before you ask, she's DCPD and yes, I've checked her out. So she's safe to be around your son."

Teresa was grateful for his caution, though sorry he felt it necessary.

Cho decided to change the subject, obviously not wanting to be grilled about his girlfriend. "So Jane, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Oh, I thought I'd get a feel for the city, look at neighborhoods and that kind of thing. Where do you live?"

"Falls Church. It's in Virginia."

"Near the FBI campus?" Teresa asked.

"That's in Springfield. It's close enough most days. The traffic here is pretty ridiculous sometimes."

Patrick said, "We thought we might live in the city."

"You can probably afford it," Cho said.

The server brought their food, and they soon fell silent, appreciating the delicious meal.

mmm

Teresa's cell phone alarm went off much too early. She groaned and reached for it to shut it off, then rolled over to find Patrick yawning. "I hate changing time zones," he grumbled. "Want me to order breakfast while you shower?"

"Don't forget a pot of coffee," she said, pecking his cheek as she got up.

When she emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed with her hair done, Patrick was just tipping room service and closing the door. She smiled at him as she poured herself some coffee and he set about making his tea. "You didn't have to get up."

"Yes, I did. I'm coming with you."

"To see the campus?"

"To meet with Abbott."

She frowned. "What?"

"Eat your Eggs Benedict, my dear. I'm coming to your meeting." He took a bite of his scrambled eggs and moaned his approval.

"You weren't invited to my meeting," she pointed out, not sure whether to be annoyed or hopeful.

"No, but I doubt Abbott will object. One of your qualifications for this job—and only one, no need to throw anything at me—is that you are the only person who could possibly bring me back under the FBI's yoke."

"I thought you were retired." Really, couldn't they have discussed this?

"I am. But I've recently been reminded that it's not unreasonable for us to be a little paranoid. I want to be assured your new job is all it seems and not some kind of misdirect. Or worse."

"So you're going to pretend to be available so you can decide whether it's a good idea for me to take this job?" She was definitely annoyed.

"The decision is yours, Teresa. I'm merely getting some firsthand observations for my own edification. Besides," he said, draining his teacup and standing, "if the work is as interesting as you say, I might find some part time consulting stimulating. Working with Cho again would be a treat. And getting to spend more time with my wife, whom I adore, is an alluring prospect."

He kissed her as he headed for the shower, leaving her to ponder this turn of events. Was he serious? She hoped so, but doubted it. She'd love to work with him again in an environment where his unorthodox methods would be appreciated, but law enforcement had never been his passion, and she thought he'd want to focus on the twins as they graduated and moved to a new phase of life. If he came to work with her, would it mean he was worried about her? Was he transferring his anxiety about the twins to her? That wouldn't be healthy.

She finished her breakfast and had a second cup of coffee, dismissing her impulse to sneak out. It wouldn't deter him, and she didn't want him annoyed when he met her new boss.

Maybe this was for the best. She'd value Patrick's opinions and observations, taking into account his current hyper vigilance, and Abbott would get a firsthand look at the infamous Patrick Jane. She'd be absolved of any expectations as a go-between, she hoped.

At last the bathroom door opened, and her breath caught as she took in his shaved face, artfully careless curls, and three piece suit. She hadn't realized how much she missed seeing him like this.

He grinned at her, obviously relishing her reaction, and helped her into her coat. Then he shrugged his on and held out his arm. "Shall we go?"

"Yes. But this is the last time you tag along to a job interview," she warned.

"Whatever you say, my dear."

mmm

Teresa took a deep breath, trying to dispel her nervousness as they waited for AD Abbott to see them. It was ridiculous to be nervous about a job interview at her age, she told herself. She didn't need this job, after all. She could keep doing the one she had, or retire. Oh God, what if Patrick was secretly planning to be such an ass that her boss would fire her?

No, he'd never do that. She needed to get a grip.

"Relax," Patrick murmured, soft enough so that the administrative assistant whose desk they were sitting next to couldn't hear. "You're calling the shots here."

She hoped that was true, but in her experience she rarely did when Patrick was in the mix.

The office's inner door opened, and Assistant Director Abbott stepped through. "Agent Lisbon. And Patrick Jane, I presume? Come in."

They stood, and Patrick stayed back so Teresa could shake hands first. "Thank you for seeing us, sir."

"Don't thank me yet," Abbott said with a wry smile, then turned to shake Patrick's hand. "I wasn't expecting you, Mr. Jane, but from what I've heard, you'll cause less trouble in here than out there."

"Oh, don't count on it," Patrick said cheerfully.

"I thought you were retired," Abbott said as he closed the door behind them and sat behind his desk.

"I am. But I'm also nosy, especially about things that concern my lovely wife." Patrick took the seat nearest the wall and crossed his legs, leaning back and grinning as if he owned the place.

Teresa recognized the posture; he felt he was in hostile territory. "He is interested in hearing more about the team you're assembling."

Abbott sat back in his chair. "This is the first time I've ever had an agent show up for a meeting with her spouse in tow."

Patrick waved a hand dismissively. "I thought you were interested in innovative approaches. Agent Lisbon knows more about that than anyone else in this building, except me. How innovative do you want to be, Abbott? Because if you can't get past this situation, you'll be wasting Lisbon's time."

Teresa shot Patrick a sharp look, but Abbott chuckled. "What are you, her booking agent?"

"No," Teresa said firmly. She was beginning to be very annoyed; this was supposed to be her meeting. "I thought you might be interested in meeting him to see if you wanted to make him an offer. But if you aren't, he'll be on his way and we can get down to business."

"Now, let's not be hasty." While Abbott didn't have an accent, he had a leisurely way of speaking that she thought had been influenced by years of exposure to the Texan drawl. "Your record speaks for itself, Lisbon. You're a natural leader and mentor, dedicated, and judiciously creative in keeping your team's solve rate up. What I'm curious to know is how many of your creative approaches came from dinner time chats with your live-in consultant."

"None," she said. "We have children. We don't talk work at the table."

Abbott nodded. "Fair enough."

"But if you're asking if I'm just a conduit for Jane's ideas, the answer is no. I don't turn to him every time we hit a dead end. I make my own calls. Every now and then I'll ask his opinion about a case, but I don't always act on it, and when I do, it's my plan, not his. Though I will admit that after years of watching him work, some of my ideas are probably based on his."

"So it seems to me," Abbott said, "that if I hire you, I get some of the brilliance of Patrick Jane and none of the complaints. Sounds like a sweet deal. I'm a little surprised you'd think I'd want to coax him out of retirement just to be a pain in my ass."

Patrick smirked. "While Lisbon is good—very good, in fact—together we are amazing. Take a look back at our record at CBI."

"I have. Your team had a nearly perfect case closure rate." Abbott tapped a finger on the table. "But your cases often had less than stellar conviction rates, and you led the rest of the CBI in complaints by several orders of magnitude. The kind of work we'll be doing doesn't need that kind of complication."

"No one's better at spotting patterns than Jane," Teresa said. "He once walked past a guy on the street and correctly predicted he would attempt a mass shooting. I know some of his tricks, but I could never do that."

"I looked at that case. Your supervisor thought it was inconclusive whether the suspect would actually have carried out his plan if his paranoia hadn't been confirmed by police contact."

Teresa said, "He'd planned well for it. My impression was that he'd have done it. But no, we can't know for sure. But that question will arise in the work you'll be doing, over and over. Nobody's perfect, so sometimes you'll be intervening unnecessarily. I'm sure you've already thought that through."

"I have. But I'm glad to know that you have, too." Abbott sat back. "The CBI files were fascinating reading. Agent Wainwright thought you were a psychopath, Mr. Jane. Were you aware of that?"

"Yes, he told me so." Patrick seemed unconcerned.

"Jane is not a psychopath," Teresa said, tamping down her spurt of anger. "I've been married to him for 18 years and known him even longer. I've met some psychopaths. He's not."

"I tend to agree," Abbott said. "Looking back, it seems clear letting Wainwright believe that was part of the plan to make everyone believe he'd had a mental breakdown. Groundwork."

"No," Patrick shrugged, "but I find it's always best to manage expectations. After his diagnosis, Wainwright could only be pleasantly surprised by my behavior."

"So that's the kind of employee you are."

Patrick smirked. "I'm no kind of employee. But the kind of consultant I am is what you're after. Do you know why I left the CBI?"

"I spoke with Director Hightower. She believes it was to avoid Agent Lisbon suffering for your misdeeds."

"That sounds like a direct quote. The 'misdeed' Hightower referred to was my unauthorized intervention in a hostage situation to save Lisbon. And there's your answer: I'm reasonably well behaved except when she's in danger. You won't be putting her in danger, so you should have nothing to worry about."

"This unit won't be purely administrative," Abbott said. "There will be interviews, some of which will occur in the field. No job in the FBI is risk free, as I'm sure you know."

"I'm well aware," Patrick agreed. "This unit seems like more a political risk than a physical one."

"The concept has been floating around for a while, based on other agencies' work trying to spot potential terrorists before they become radicalized. I decided to see if we can make it work within the FBI's mandate. If it isn't productive, yes, my reputation will take a hit. But I'm willing to take the risk. This has the potential to save lives."

Patrick nodded. "I can see that's important to you."

"It's the most important thing. It's why we all become cops," Abbott replied.

"Not all of you. But you and Lisbon, all the good ones, yes." Patrick got to his feet. "Thank you for letting me sit in. I'll get out of your way now."

Teresa looked at him, startled, as he bent to kiss her cheek. "Have a productive day, my dear. Call me when you're free."

"Stay out of trouble," she called after him.

He flashed her a grin as he closed the door on his way out.

"You have your hands full there," Abbott observed.

Teresa was not about to discuss her marriage. "I assure you I try to keep my private life out of the office. You won't find him hanging out here."

"The job is yours, Lisbon," Abbott assured her, handing her a brown envelope. "There's the transfer paperwork with all the details. Though I wasn't expecting Jane, it was good to get a look at him."

Teresa tried to hide her relief and excitement as she took it. "Thank you, sir. You'll have my answer as soon as I've discussed it with my family."

"Of course. My assistant has your schedule of meetings with agents who have expressed interest or been recommended. Most are virtual, but a few are here in person. Even if you decide not to accept, I'd value your evaluation of them."

"Of course." She paused, then decided to push her luck a little. "And if I want Jane on the team?"

"I'll leave that to you. Since he's a consultant, it's not against the rules, though we'll need to justify it in writing. But his record speaks for itself." Abbott smiled. "Good luck, Agent Lisbon. Stop by and see me before you leave today."

"Yes, sir."

Teresa barely kept her smile in check as she went to the outer office. Maybe Patrick had been right. It seemed like at long last, she was calling the shots in her career.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** This story is going a bit more leisurely than I planned, but next chapter should be the big date, so hang in there! Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Patrick exited the building and walked toward the Metro station, grateful DC was having a mild winter as he stopped to enjoy the sunshine on his face. Its position in the sky told him it was now late enough to call California, so he sent a good morning text to both Victoria and Liam, then dialed Moore. His heart rate picked up as it went to voicemail, and he quickened his pace.

Liam texted back an audio file of a guitar riff, which made Patrick smile before his subconscious starting spinning tales of a hostage situation where no one was allowed to speak to him. Moore texted a minute later: Sorry I missed your call. Early meeting. All is well. Relax!

Still no proof his fears were wrong, Patrick thought. He was just about to call Liam when his phone rang, showing him a picture of his daughter. "Good morning Dad."

"Morning, Princess. Did Stan survive, or do you have him locked in a closet?"

Her laugh was carefree and convincing, and he relaxed. "He's fine. He had an early meeting. Did you really hypnotize a guy into thinking he was a statue?"

"I plead the fifth. Hey, it looks good for your mom here. She's really excited, so let's all be excited for her, okay?"

"Sure. It's like a promotion, right?"

"It's not like a promotion; it is a promotion. We'll celebrate when we get home. You're remembering to feed Belle, I hope?"

"Of course. She misses you though." A bell sounded in the background, and she said, "Gotta go. Tell Mom hi!"

"Love you," Patrick said to the dial tone. He shook his head a little as he continued his walk.

As he entered the Metro station, his phone buzzed with a text from Teresa: Got the offer. Lunch with Cho and meetings all afternoon. See you for dinner.

He smiled. He wasn't surprised, but he was pleased for her. She deserved to focus on herself for a while. Her job had been her life when he'd met her, but becoming a mother had reordered her priorities. Now that their children were grown, she could fulfill some of the ambitions she'd put on hold. He wanted that for her.

The idea of working with her again attracted him, he had to admit. They'd had fun together solving cases, way back when. And if he could contribute to her success, he'd gladly do it. He just wasn't sure it would be the best thing for her. He could be a little overwhelming, after all.

If she asked him, he'd say yes, but only after the kids were settled. Liam in particular needed support and attention through a big change, and Patrick wanted to keep a close eye on Victoria as she waded into the dating pool. He'd have to live in California at least until the school year was over, anyway.

He'd use this day wisely, looking for a nice three bedroom place in a vibrant neighborhood near a farmer's market. He was leaning toward a condo since it would be lower maintenance, and Teresa had loved their high-end apartment in Sacramento. She'd be living by herself for a few months, so he would choose a secure building with lots of delivery options. He'd done some online research before they left home, and he had a list of places to check out.

Living apart would be tough, probably more for him than her. He didn't like it, but he was determined to give her what she needed. She'd supported him through his darkest years, no matter the cost to herself; he owed her the same. Abbott was solid, so Patrick had no reason to interfere. And knowing Cho would be working with her reassured him that she'd have someone to rely on in his absence.

All in all, things seemed to be falling into place. It was just his own resistance to change making him uneasy, he told himself. He needed to get a grip, especially if Teresa wasn't going to be around to calm him.

He'd have a cup of tea, and then get started arranging their new home.

mmm

Patrick was tired but cheerful when he got back to the hotel room to find Teresa waiting for him. "Sorry I'm late," he told her, giving her a greeting kiss. "The Metro is jammed at rush hour. I couldn't even get on the first train I saw."

"Good thing we can walk to dinner, then," she smiled. Then she touched his cheek, stroking gently along his jaw and making his skin tingle. "I missed your face under that beard."

"You did, huh?"

Her hand moved to his vest, fingering the buttons in a way that made his heart rate pick up. "And I missed the vest."

His voice was a little hoarse as he said, "Don't start something you're not prepared to finish."

"Oh, I'm prepared," she chuckled, a glint in her eye that made him very, very happy. Then she stepped back. "But you're late, so we'll have to put a pin in it."

He groaned. "Cruel woman. I forgot how frisky you get when you're intellectually stimulated."

"Maybe you should stimulate me more often," she teased.

"You're so demanding," he chuckled. Maybe there would be an upside to the coming separation: they would make the most of their time together.

They walked hand in hand to the restaurant Cho had picked, a low key Thai place that smelled delicious as they entered. Cho was already there, standing near the door, and he looked up from his phone as they entered. "Leila's running a little late. She says to get drinks and an appetizer so you'll be able to like her when she gets here."

Jane grinned. "Smart woman."

They were shown to their table, and once they were settled, Cho said, "So, you two talk about it yet?"

"No," Teresa replied. "Patrick was late."

"Productively late," Patrick corrected. "I found the perfect condo."

"In one day?" Teresa said, astonished.

"Not exactly. I did some research before we came out. I take it the offer is attractive." He could see she was trying to contain her hopeful excitement.

"Yes. More money, even when you take into account the higher cost of living here. And I have the chance to put together a great team and do some really groundbreaking work."

"That's settled, then," he smiled.

"No, it's not. We have to talk about it as a family," she protested.

"Why? What do our teenagers know about wise career choices?"

Teresa frowned. "I'll be uprooting them at a critical time in their lives."

"No, you won't. They will still have a home. We'll keep the farm for a few years, see how it goes. We can spend time there in the summers and maybe Christmas. Victoria's leaving for school this fall, and Liam will be fine as long as he's with us. In fact the move will help him get used to change and make the thought of leaving for school a little less scary."

"I'll be uprooting you," she said softly.

Patrick shook his head. "Change will be good for me. And I'll be fine as long as I'm with you."

"But you won't be. We'll be across the country from each other for months."

He hid the pang her words caused. "I can visit. And once school is out, the kids and I can spend most of our time here."

"But we won't be together all the time."

"No, we won't. And it won't be easy." It would be extremely hard for him, he knew. "But it will only be temporary."

Teresa cocked her head, considering him. "Patrick, you get anxious if I'm ten minutes late getting home. How are you going to cope with not having any idea where I am most of the day?"

Patrick shrugged. "I'm outsourcing my hovering to Cho."

Cho snorted into his glass of water. "No, you're not."

"Well, at least I know you'll have her back," Patrick said.

"Always."

"And you'll hang out with her after work sometimes so she doesn't get lonely."

"I can do that, yeah."

"Then I won't have anything to worry about," Patrick said with more confidence than he felt.

Teresa and Cho exchanged a look that clearly said they thought he was full of it. He couldn't really blame them, but he would find a way to deal with his problems. He wasn't going to stand between Teresa and something she really wanted. And knowing Cho was with her would allay most of his fear for her safety.

It was time to change the subject, he decided. "So we know Cho here is your first choice. Have you decided on the other members of your new team?"

"I want Wylie," she said, "but his wife is based in Austin. I hate splitting up two couples for this job."

Cho said, "I know Vega. She won't have any trouble finding a spot here if she wants. She's a go-getter. Don't worry about them."

"Good to know," Teresa said, relieved. "I was thinking he could work remotely some of the time, but I'd rather have him here."

"He's good with computers, but he likes to be in the field too," Cho agreed. "Who else?"

Patrick partially tuned out the shop talk; if he ended up working with the team, he'd draw his own conclusions anyway. He was thinking about timing. Teresa would need to transition out of her current position, which would take a couple weeks at least. It would be nice if her move out here could happen over the twins' spring break, so they could all be part of it. It would also be easier for him to get on a plane and leave her here if he had the kids to keep him company. His heart ached a little at the thought.

He was grateful to be distracted by the arrival of a petite woman in a fashionable red coat. She had long, thick black hair and was, he thought, of Middle Eastern descent. When she saw Cho and smiled, Patrick grinned. She was definitely smitten.

Cho smiled and got to his feet for a hello kiss as she came over to the table. "Guys, this is Leila Hejazi. She's in IA for the DCPD."

"Internal Affairs, hm? Tough gig," Patrick said, getting to his feet and shaking her hand.

"It has its moments," she replied. "So nice to meet you, Mr. Jane. I've heard some amazing things about you."

"Don't believe everything you hear. You know how Cho can go on and on," Patrick chuckled.

Leila laughed as she turned to Teresa. "And you must be the famous Agent Lisbon. Kimball says he wouldn't be where he is without you."

"He's too modest," Teresa smiled. "He was already a great agent when we met. And I don't know what I would have done without him."

"Me either," Patrick agreed as they all sat down. "So how did you two meet?"

"In line for coffee," Cho said. "She asked me if the pumpkin latte was any good."

Leila chuckled. "And he said he drank his coffee black, so he wouldn't know."

Love at first sight, at least on her part, Patrick guessed. It was understandable; Cho was a solid, loyal guy, and you never had to wonder where you stood with him. A beautiful woman like Leila would have had her fill of smooth talkers long ago.

He was satisfied. He'd been a little concerned about his old friend Cho, but Leila seemed a good partner for him. Now he could sit back and enjoy dinner. Opening his menu, he said, "So, what's good here?"

mmm

Arm in arm, Patrick and Teresa walked back to the hotel two hours later, content after a good meal and good company. "You like her, don't you?" Teresa asked.

"I do, yes. She's good for him."

"Good." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "He deserves to be happy."

"I don't think he was necessarily unhappy before," Patrick pointed out. "But he deserves to be loved, yes. And it would be very awkward hanging out together if we hated her."

"God, yes," she said. She was quiet for a few more steps, then said, "I'm not convinced, Patrick."

"What, that she loves him? I assure you she does."

"That you're okay with having a cross-country marriage."

He sighed. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it. But I can't see any way around it. We can't make the kids transfer in their last semester of high school, and we can't leave them on their own."

"I could turn down the job."

Patrick reflected that he sometimes forgot how deep her martyr complex ran. "Why? Because you're worried about me? Do you think I need more guilt in my life, Teresa?"

"No need for guilt. Marriage is about doing the best thing for both of us."

"And you've done that. You've been doing it since we met, in fact. Do something for yourself for once, Teresa. You deserve it. And I deserve a chance to return your generosity and devotion."

"But you have. Devotion—Patrick, how could anyone be more devoted than you? I don't think you've had a thought in 18 years that wasn't about making me and the twins happy."

"An exaggeration, my dear. And I made no sacrifices for our family. You did."

"You did too. You stayed home and raised our children when they were little."

"That was no sacrifice. The job was never as important to me as it was to you. And you had to give up doing what you loved to protect our unborn children and never went back so you could be the mother and wife we needed."

Teresa stopped walking, pulling him to a halt. "Patrick Jane," she said in her you-are-in-very-big-trouble voice, "don't you dare think I have ever regretted that. Not for a second!"

He decided to try a different angle. "The fact remains that you gave up something important to you. And now you can get it back. I want you to have it back. And I will not complain about any sacrifices I have to make, any more than you ever did. Allow me this, Teresa. Let me be the unselfish one for once."

"You have been."

"No, I haven't."

"You gave up Red John for me," she reminded him softly. "The most important thing you had, and you let it go so I could live."

He shook his head. "My revenge never meant more than you. I told everyone, including myself, that it did, but it was just another con. It was difficult to give up, yes. But in return I got everything I'd ever wanted with you. Whereas you...you had no choice. You never had the chance to figure out if you wanted to marry me, because you had to. You didn't choose to get pregnant—that was an accident."

She looked at him like he was speaking Greek. "Did it never occur to you that I got everything I'd ever wanted too?"

"I was there, Teresa."

"Yes, you were. But your memory's getting rusty, old man. Marrying you was not a sacrifice." Her eyes were fierce.

"No, it wasn't. Giving up your job and your team was. We both know it, so why are you arguing?"

"Because you're set on making a sacrifice for no reason!"

Patrick sighed. "Not for no reason. To make my wife, the woman I love, happy. That, to me, is the best reason in the world to do anything."

"One thing I've learned over the years," Teresa said, "is that my job isn't what makes me happy. My family makes me happy."

"Professional fulfillment and a happy family life are not mutually exclusive," Patrick pointed out. "At least, not anymore. I will be happy here. I'm looking forward to the museums, the art galleries, the theaters. I could spend days happily exploring the Library of Congress. And think of all the fantastic ethnic food available in this big melting pot. Exploring some of the neighborhoods will be almost like traveling overseas. I'm not such a fragile flower I can't be transplanted, Teresa. And neither are the kids."

"I feel like I'll be pulling the rug out from under Liam," she admitted. "If he's taking a gap year, wouldn't it be better to stay in California?"

"Absolutely not," Patrick said firmly. " A gap year is a chance to explore the world, not hide from it. This will be enormously beneficial for him. He can live in a new place but still have us close for as long as he needs us. Living here will open new vistas for him." He kissed her forehead. "Trust me on this, Teresa. I want what's best for him as much as you do."

"I know."

They resumed their walk, and after a minute Teresa said, "I never realized how hard it can be to accept what you want."

He chuckled. "You've always struggled with that, my dear. Somehow you got it into your head that you have to be sacrificing or you're doing something wrong. And because lives depend on you getting things right—starting with your brothers—you're terrified of making mistakes. You're worried that if you focus on your career you'll be neglecting your family. But this is a new stage of our life. The kids are shortly going to demand significantly less of our time and attention. We both need something new to focus on. Moving here accomplishes that for both of us."

She was silent, digesting his argument, until they reached their hotel and went upstairs to their room. "You're saying there's no downside?"

"Of course there's a downside," Patrick replied, shrugging out of his coat. "Moving is a pain. We'll have two or three months of separation with few visiting opportunities. I'll be a single parent through prom."

Teresa mustered a smile. "You've always been more help to Victoria in picking out dresses and hairstyles than I have."

"But once we're through the transition, I expect we'll both be happier than ever." He helped her out of her coat.

"Except for living through real winters again." She shivered.

Patrick rubbed his hands briskly along her arms. "We'll adapt. That's what successful organisms do."

"I hope the kids feel the same way you do." Teresa turned to face him, looking anxious.

"They want you to be happy. And they're proud of you. Being teenagers, they'll be focused on the impact to them, but that doesn't mean they won't support you." Patrick paused, then added, "And they don't get a veto, Teresa. They are just learning to manage their own lives—they don't get to manage ours."

She nodded, but he could see there was a thought troubling her. He waited patiently for her to articulate it. "I don't want them to feel like I'm abandoning them."

He put his arms around her, his heart aching a little. They'd both been motherless teens, so this was a sensitive spot. "Some children are abandoned by their parents while living in the same house," he said, knowing that could be applied to both their fathers. "Abandonment is about attention and affection, not physical presence. And I know that no matter how busy you are, you will check in with each of us every day and think of us all the time. You will keep room for us in your new life."

She held onto him tightly, still struggling with her feelings. Finally she whispered, "I can't imagine waking up without you for months on end."

He couldn't either. "You can come home on weekends. We know we can survive a week; we've done it when you were at a conference or I was on a case. And if you get too busy to leave, I can come here for a weekend, with or without the kids." He kissed her. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But we can do it, knowing it won't last long."

Teresa looked at him closely, trying to read him. He let her see what he was feeling: pride and love and yes, concern. But also determination.

"Okay," she whispered. Then she smiled and said in a firm voice, "Okay. I'll do it. I'll call Abbott after we've told the kids."

"Congratulations, SAC Lisbon." Patrick smiled and kissed her again.

mmm

They arrived home after lunch the following day, to an effusive greeting from Belle. Patrick knelt on the driveway and rubbed her ears, reducing the dog to helpless ecstasy, before carrying the luggage inside.

Teresa met him at the door with a frown. "The perimeter alarm was tripped while we were gone."

"What?" Patrick's heart sped up uncomfortably.

"Last night, 2:03 a.m. Stan left a note." She held up a sticky note with the scrawled message: _Everyone's fine. I'll explain when I see you_.

"Probably not a raccoon, then," Patrick said. Who had known they'd be out of town? His mind raced as he ran through the possibilities.

"Probably not," Teresa agreed, pulling out her cell. "Stan, what happened?" She put the phone on speaker.

"Someone was poking around the yard last night. They ran off when I turned on the light after the alarm went off. I found some footprints and had casts made, but by the time the cops got out there the guy was long gone."

Patrick and Teresa exchanged looks. Teresa said, "How are the kids?"

"Victoria was cranky at being woken up for nothing, as she put it. Liam was...quiet. I debated whether to call you, but since everything was over it didn't seem necessary to wake you."

Stan was very obviously not a parent, Patrick thought sourly.

Teresa said, "I'm glad you were here. Can you come for dinner?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. Rain check? Captain Simmons from SacPD is heading up the investigation, so you can give him a call if you want to check in."

"Thanks, we will. See you soon." Teresa hung up, but she didn't call SacPD as Patrick expected. Instead she thought for a few seconds. "Let's go take a look at those footprints."

"Someone testing our security?" Patrick mused as they walked slowly around the house. Belle trotted along beside them, sniffing the ground occasionally.

"Maybe. Could have been an opportunistic robbery attempt. Or even kids fooling around."

He could tell from her tone that she was trying to reassure herself rather than suggesting a theory. "Probably," he said. "Seems too sloppy for a professional."

"It does, doesn't it?" she said quickly. "I wonder if those footprints were made by high end sneakers."

"Prank by a classmate?" Patrick wondered.

Teresa pursed her lips. "I was thinking maybe Brett thought he'd get some quality time with Victoria while we were gone. She doesn't know about the perimeter alarm, just the house one. She might have told him she'd meet him at the door."

"Comforting," Patrick muttered. "Easy to confirm once we talk to her." He wasn't sure he found that theory more appealing than a Visualize attempt, but he couldn't deny its plausibility. Looking down at the dog, he said, "I wish you could talk, Belle."

"We should ask Stan if she barked," Teresa said. "Though the perimeter alarm is far enough from the house that she might not have heard whoever it was. Aha, there we go. Good thing it rained recently."

She knelt to examine the prints, and Patrick had a moment of deja vu, remembering countless crime scenes they'd investigated during their years with the CBI. But this time they were standing in their own front yard. The thought made his stomach turn.

Teresa stood. "Male, not a big one. Sneakers. Could be Brett."

"I hope so."

"Me too." She sighed. "Dammit."

As they walked back to the house, Patrick studied his wife. There was a slump to her shoulders that didn't go with the alarm and anger she had to be feeling. What was going on in her head? Ah. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he advised.

"What?"

"You're thinking there's no way you can leave us here if someone is prowling around, and you're already trying to figure out how to tell Abbott you won't take the job. But you'll be here for the next two or three weeks at least. Surely we can wrap up a simple trespassing case by then."

"SacPD isn't going to devote a lot of time or resources to a trespassing case," she said.

"No, but I will. And you know I don't like to brag, but I'm pretty good." He opened the front door and stepped back to hold it for her. "Besides, you're not the only one around here capable of shooting an intruder. You won't be leaving us defenseless."

"Don't need me at all, do you?" she said wryly.

"I want you, which is much healthier," he said. "And I want you to have this promotion. Besides, what if this is someone trying to make you pass up the opportunity? The timing is interesting."

"Why would anyone want to keep me from taking the job?"

"You'd know that better than I."

She shook her head. "You don't really think that. You're just trying to keep me from turning it down."

True, he admitted to himself. "There's no reason to turn it down. Give me until Monday to find out what's going on before you call Abbott."

Teresa sighed. "Okay. Fine." Then she gave a little smile. "It'll be fun to see you back in action."

"Stimulating?" He waggled his eyebrows, and she chuckled.

"I only find closed cases stimulating, Patrick. If you'll recall."

"Oh, I do." He smirked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the kind reviews on the last chapter! Unfortunately I didn't make it to the date in this chapter, but next one, I promise! My muse is apparently feeling leisurely. I blame those rocking chairs on the back porch of the Janes' farmhouse.

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Teresa sat down with her laptop to catch up on some work, leaving Patrick to putter around unpacking and inspecting the depredations Moore and the kids had made on his food supplies. From the lack of muttering, she gathered it hadn't been too bad.

A few minutes later she heard the kettle whistle and caught a whiff of coffee, and shortly afterward a mug appeared at her elbow. He'd put extra sugar in it, she realized with the first sip. He must think she needed comfort.

"A kidnapping doesn't make sense," she said. "And a kidnapping by one person when there were at least two people in the house makes even less sense."

"Agreed," Patrick said, sitting in a chair nearby and humming in satisfaction as he sipped his tea.

Of course he'd figured that out, she thought. Probably long before she had. "So...testing our security or horny boyfriend?"

He winced. "Visualize isn't going to kidnap our kids. If they were going to do that, it would have been when they were little. If they come after one of them, it'll be through subterfuge."

"So horny boyfriend it is."

"I prefer to think he thought of himself as a Romeo, come to admire Juliet on her balcony," Patrick said.

Teresa grinned a little. Of course he preferred to think of Victoria and Brett in a romantic rather than carnal pursuit, being such a romantic himself. "How do you want to handle this?"

"Depends on whether she was in on it," he said. "It's not fair to punish her if she didn't know. And canceling the big date would cause operatic histrionics I'd rather avoid."

She grimaced, knowing he was right. "Parenting is hard. Suck it up."

"Meh. I hope our daughter is smarter than to arrange a tryst with her brother and Stan down the hall."

"Me too, but boys aren't the only ones who do dumb things when their hormones run wild."

Patrick grinned at her. "Speaking from experience, love?"

"Don't change the subject. If she wasn't in on it, fine. What if she was? Grounding seems...not severe enough." Teresa tried not to think that Victoria, like her father, might not be deterred by any punishment she could devise. But she and Patrick had resolved early in their marriage to parent as a team. He was very good at getting people to do what he wanted, and their children were rarely exceptions.

"True. Attempting to circumvent our home security puts all of us at risk. I think we're talking confiscation of her phone." Patrick grimaced, probably imagining the scene.

"The nuclear option, huh? Agreed." She devoutly hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Patrick finished his tea and got up to put his cup and saucer in the dishwasher, Belle trotting behind him. He returned and stretched out on the couch, then helped the dog up to lie on his legs. A few minutes later they were both asleep, their soft snoring making her smile a little.

It had been a long time since she'd watched him nap, she reflected. It brought back memories of the CBI. Now that he was clean shaven again, he didn't look that different from the irritating consultant who'd replaced her couch, closed her cases, and apologized with the occasional pastry for the stacks of paperwork he generated.

Could they recreate that magic? Did she want to? Their marriage was solid, partly because they stayed out of each other's careers. Mixing work and home hadn't been easy in the early days, but maybe it would be better now that they knew each other so well. And without Red John to make him crazy, he might be better behaved.

Oh, who was she kidding? The first time he thought she might be in the tiniest bit of danger, he'd do the craziest thing he could think of to ensure her safety. That was what had prompted them to separate their work lives, after all. She'd been so angry that he'd risked orphaning their children to end the hostage situation she'd found herself in, and she'd resented Hightower punishing her for it to make Patrick suffer.

That was another thing. Being responsible for her husband's behavior was unappealing, but the idea of sharing the same risks was even more so. Victoria and Liam still needed them. It would be bad enough to lose one parent, but both at once would be crushing. Maybe she owed it to them to leave Patrick safely in retirement.

She didn't have to decide now, at least. She had to put her team together, get relocated, and settle in while Patrick stayed with the kids until the end of the school year. He wouldn't be available until the fall when they went to college—or at least Victoria did.

It might be nice if Liam stayed home for a while. It would give Patrick something to do besides obsess over the safety of his daughter on her own for the first time and his wife possibly confronting new dangers. Plus, she had to admit to herself, she loved having her son around. He was good company most of the time.

She loved Victoria equally of course, but their daughter had always related better to Patrick, it seemed. And he'd once remarked, when they were arguing about how to respond to some minor transgression, that he didn't want her to punish Victoria for his sins. It was all too easy to do; sometimes her daughter was so much like Patrick that Teresa went into boss/damage control mode out of long habit. She didn't want her little girl to skate through life on charm and manipulation. Patrick's tendency was to spoil both the kids, but especially the beautiful girl who was living the life her sister had been denied, so Teresa often felt she had to be the disciplinarian.

She was just turning her attention back to her email when she heard a car approach, so she got up and went to greet the arrival. A minute later, Liam came in, setting his guitar case by the front door and grinning at her. "Hi, Mom. Congratulations on the job!"

"I haven't accepted it yet," she replied, hugging him. "But thank you."

He hugged her back, surprising her with his strength. Like his father, he was stronger than he looked. He was about the same height, too, she realized. Not her little boy anymore.

"Don't you want the job?" he asked as he stepped back, sweeping his bangs back out of his face.

"I do," she said. "But it would mean a lot of changes for us, so we should all talk about it."

He shrugged. "It's not like we're gonna say no, Mom. If you want it, you should have it."

"I'd have to move to DC before you graduate. I'd come back as much as I could, but I'd miss a lot."

"Yeah." He shrugged again and picked up his guitar case. "But we can call. And don't worry about Dad. Vic and I talked about it, and we'll look after him for you."

Teresa's heart squeezed painfully, and she grabbed him in another big hug, which he returned one-armed. "Thank you," she whispered. "My sweet boy."

Liam made gagging noises and grinned as he pulled away. "Glad you're back," he said as he headed upstairs.

"Hey, where's your sister?" she called after him.

"Brett's bringing her," he called back.

Teresa was surprised, but as she walked back to the den, she decided she was pleased. She and Patrick could put to rest at least some of their questions about what happened while they were gone.

Patrick's eyes were still closed, but Belle was awake and listening intently. Her tail started wagging as Teresa walked into the room, and Patrick said sleepily, "Want to order in pizza?"

"Sure." Since he liked to cook, they rarely ate out or ordered in. Getting a pizza delivered was a great treat, especially for the kids. He had apparently decided Victoria wasn't going to turn out to be the guilty party.

It was pointless, she reminded herself, to expect transparency in Patrick Jane's investigative process. Not even his deep and lasting love for her would change that. Especially since part of his reason for holding his cards close to his chest was because he loved to surprise her. If he could present the surprise on a silver platter with a flourish, so much the better, she thought with a smile.

She sat back down with her laptop, finished what she was doing, and shut it down. She still had a list of reports to review, but tonight her family was her priority.

"I'll make a salad for starters," Patrick yawned.

Belle grunted and carefully got down from the couch, casting Teresa a meaningful look as she walked toward the back door. Teresa followed her into the kitchen to open the door for her, remembering the argument they'd had about a dog door when they'd moved in. Patrick had judged it an unacceptable security risk, so she'd declared it was his job to let the dog out, especially at night. That hadn't lasted long.

Teresa followed Belle out into the yard, looking around as the late afternoon light gave the leaves and grass a gentle glow. It really was beautiful here, she thought. She was looking forward to city life again, but she couldn't deny she'd be sad to leave the farm. There were so many good memories of life here as their children grew into young adults.

Belle finished up, sniffed around a bit, and then climbed the three stairs to the back porch and whined to be let back in. She probably hadn't liked being alone the past two days, since she was used to Patrick being here.

"Don't worry, girl. He'll be all yours again for a while," she said softly.

Patrick was taking things out of the refrigerator when she and Belle entered the kitchen. "None of the vegetables were touched," he said, amused. "Stan's eating habits haven't changed, I guess."

"He probably just reheated some of your frozen emergency meals," Teresa pointed out.

Liam joined them in time to say, "Yeah, but he's not any better at reheating than cooking. He burned the lasagna. Vic took over meals after that."

"It's good practice. You two will be feeding yourselves soon," Patrick replied, pausing to hug his son. "But it's nice to know I was missed."

Liam grinned. "Yeah. Belle really missed you."

"You'll miss me when you're on your own and reduced to canned soup and ramen noodles," Patrick chuckled.

"Yeah, well." Liam bit his lip and looked to the side, a tell Teresa recognized as one he'd gotten from her. "About the college thing."

"Yes?" Patrick kept tearing lettuce. "Teresa, can you slice these radishes?"

"Is that what those are?" She eyed them dubiously. They didn't look at all like the round things she'd bought at the store back when she was trying to get vegetables into her brothers.

"Homegrown," Patrick chided. "Sorry, Liam. You were saying?"

Teresa tried to look like she was concentrating on her chore. Patrick said it was easier for Liam to confide in them if they weren't staring at him. It made her wonder if that was why he'd spent all that time in her office lying on her couch at the CBI.

Liam took a deep breath, then said, "I was thinking...what with everything else going on...maybe I'll take a gap year."

"Really?" She tried to sound surprised.

Patrick rolled his eyes at her before turning to smile at Liam. "I think that's smart. I'll certainly appreciate having your help relocating to DC."

Liam rarely surprised his father, so he wasn't shocked at having failed to do so. "Did you get a place with a room for me?"

"There's no place yet, but of course there will be a room for you," she said firmly.

Patrick said, "I found a great three bedroom condo with a decent view, close to the Metro. We can hit the museums to our hearts' content. Oh, and your Uncle Cho wants to take you to a baseball game. Though that may just be a way to get you to like his girlfriend."

Liam was used to his father's way of throwing out facts in clumps, so he wasn't fazed. "Cool. Will I like her?"

Patrick chuckled. "I do."

"Good." Liam looked positively cheerful now that he'd gotten his big announcement out of the way.

Patrick went back to his salad making. "You want to order the pizzas, Liam?"

"Sure!" Liam pulled out his phone to access the app. "Can we get the drone delivery?"

"Of course," Patrick said.

It was Teresa's turn to roll her eyes. What was it with boys and their toys?

When Liam finished, he sat at the table, doing something else on his phone. "So," she said, slicing the tomatoes Patrick pushed her way, "What happened last night?"

"I dunno," Liam said. "An alarm went off. Uncle Stan acted like aliens landed or something."

Teresa said, "It's always a bad idea to sneak up on an FBI agent."

"Any idea who was sneaking around the house? The perimeter alarm was tripped," Patrick asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"That was a dumb thing to do."

Teresa shot a look at Patrick, who looked back. The non-answer was a red flag. "Yes, it was," she agreed.

They heard a car door slam out front, and Liam said, "That must be Vic."

Teresa put down her knife and washed her hands as Patrick headed for the front door, Liam trailing. She got to the living room to find Victoria hugging her father while Brett stood awkwardly to one side clutching a bouquet. "Brett, hello," she said in surprise.

"Hi, Mrs. Jane." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and held out the flowers. "Uh, congratulations on the new job."

"Thank you." She took the bouquet, a little puzzled. Was he going to bring her flowers every time they met?

"And, uh." Brett shot a furtive glance at Victoria, who let go of her father and gave him a meaningful look in return. "I came to apologize. I didn't think it would be any big deal, but Victoria said you'd freak out thinking it was a criminal or something. But it was just me, and I won't do it again."

Teresa resisted the urge to throw the flowers at him. "Are you saying it was you trespassing on our property at 2 a.m.?" she demanded.

"Yeah. I'm really sorry."

"Why?" She realized a second too late that she'd gone into angry interrogator mode, but after all, the boy deserved it.

To his credit, he didn't fall apart. "I wanted to give her something. I was going to leave it at the front door so she'd find it this morning. And know I was thinking about her."

Victoria cut off whatever Patrick was about to say. "And I told him he had to come explain or you'd lock me in my room or something and we'd have to postpone our date."

Patrick cleared his throat, and Teresa was a little alarmed to realize his fists were clenched. "And what makes you think I'm going to allow you to go anywhere with someone so lacking in good judgment? Or even common sense?"

Victoria frowned angrily, but it was Brett who responded. "I deserve that, sir. I realize now it was really stupid. And I'll never do something like that again."

"I hope not," Teresa said. "Do you realize you could have been shot?"

"Well, no. I knew you were out of town. I didn't know 'Uncle Stan' was an FBI agent too until Victoria told me this morning."

Liam said, "You should probably assume all our aunts and uncles are FBI. The only ones who aren't are in Chicago."

"Yeah." Brett turned to Liam. "Sorry I interrupted your night."

"No worries." Liam seemed unconcerned, and Teresa thought he was enjoying the show.

She was angry and exasperated, but mostly she didn't want Patrick to lose it and do something they'd all regret. "Well, we appreciate you owning up to your mistake, Brett. We're very disappointed in your behavior, but at least you've done the right thing by confessing. What do your parents have to say?"

From the look of panic that crossed his face, she gathered it hadn't come up. "Uh, I, uh, they don't know I was out."

Teresa sighed. "Then you're not finished confessing. If I don't hear from one of your parents before tomorrow night, the date is off. Indefinitely."

"Mom," Victoria protested.

"No, Victoria," she said firmly. "If it was my child out in the middle of the night trespassing and scaring someone's family, I would want to know so I could address it. Brett deserves whatever punishment his parents decide."

"You're right, Mrs. Jane," Brett said miserably. "I'll tell them when I get home."

"Best get on with it, then," Patrick said. "I'll see you out."

Brett said, "I'll text you," to Victoria, nodded to Teresa, and headed for the door. Patrick opened it, and Teresa could barely hear him as he said in a low but intense voice, "You ever do something like this again, and we'll be talking about it one on one, without ladies present. Understand?"

Brett swallowed hard and nodded, then made his escape.

Teresa handed the flowers to Victoria. "Take care of these, will you? I think he would rather you had them, anyway."

"All right." Victoria refrained from pouting, but just barely. "Welcome home, Mom. And congratulations on the job."

"Thank you, sweetie. We'll talk about it over dinner." Teresa hugged her, then stepped back.

Patrick said, "What did he give you, Victoria?"

"Oh. Just this." She reached into her school bag and pulled out a little teddy bear with a heart sewn on its chest. "Belated Valentine's gift."

"Hardly worth the fuss," Patrick said with false cheer.

Victoria rolled her eyes. "I think it's cute. He could hardly buy me diamonds. When's dinner?"

Liam checked his app. "Half an hour."

"Drone pizza? Cool." She headed upstairs.

Liam said, "I'm gonna get some practice in before dinner." Then he followed his sister.

Teresa and Patrick went back to the kitchen and salad prep work.

"Well?"

Patrick wrinkled his nose. "Stupid kid. The question is, did someone put the idea in his head or did he come up with it himself?"

"Hm. Maybe talking to his parents will shed some light."

"Maybe." He suddenly leaned over and kissed her. "I forget how much of a hardass you can be. I almost felt sorry for him."

"Almost," she said dryly. "You're sure he wasn't just taking the fall for Victoria?"

"Yes. She was annoyed, not guilty."

Teresa let out a long breath, relaxing. "Good."

"Case closed," he observed. "Pending any new information. And I'm relieved that Victoria handled this right. Any other kid might have been tempted to let us believe it was a stranger prowling around."

Teresa snorted. "She knows you. And like me, she doesn't want to live behind a barbed wire fence with security cameras everywhere. Smart girl."

"Yes, she is. So I wish she'd picked a smart boy."

"She will, when she grows up. It's satisfying to be the smart one when you're immature, but when you grow up you want to be with your equal," Teresa observed.

"True," he replied. "And thank you for the implied compliment."

"You're welcome. And ditto. I've always been flattered that the smartest man in the room picked me to spend his life with." She smiled at him.

"Thereby proving my intelligence."

They exchanged a kiss, and she thought how much she would miss their conversations. "I promise I'll call every day."

"Considering the time difference, I'd prefer every night," he teased.

"Are you really going to be okay?"

"For a few months, yes. I'm sure I'll hate it, but I'll be fine, and so will the kids."

mmm

Teresa was both relieved and disappointed that her children took the news of their impending separation in stride. She felt guilty for hoping they'd miss her more than they expected, but she couldn't blame them for looking forward to more freedom with the family disciplinarian gone. She'd have to make a point of checking that they went to Mass, since Patrick wouldn't care.

They seemed to take her acceptance of the job as a done deal, which she was sure was due to their father, and the talk over pizza was about their new lives on the East Coast.

The only sad note was when Victoria asked about Blueberry. "You won't sell him, will you?"

Patrick shook his head. "Not unless we find him the perfect new home. We'll hire a caretaker for this place who knows about horses and will look after him. If we decide to sell, we'll make arrangements for him then. I've been thinking he might make a good therapy animal."

Victoria tilted her head to the side, considering. "Like visit hospitals and stuff? I thought that was dogs mostly."

"Ponies do it too, especially in children's hospitals. Blueberry is calm and loves kids. It would be good for him. I'll see about a training program. If he can do that, I'm sure we can find a handler for him so he won't be bored when we're gone."

Victoria's face lit up. "There are always kids looking for community service credits. I bet any of them at the riding school would love that. And Blueberry wouldn't be lonely. Thanks, Dad."

"Don't thank me yet. But we won't abandon him, Princess. He's part of our family, like Belle is."

Victoria jumped up from her chair and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, and Teresa smiled as she remembered how much her daughter loved her pony. As a little girl, she'd even slept in the barn with him whenever she could. Teresa was glad to be reminded that she was still that girl beneath all the teenager attitude.

Liam was won over by all Patrick's talk of museums, concerts, and Uncle Cho, but he was obviously nervous about the rest of it. "Should I get a job?"

"If you want. I'd rather you check out the schools and maybe travel a bit," Patrick said.

Teresa said, "A job is a good idea, at least while you figure out what else you want to do. I expect you to keep busy and not sit on the couch with your guitar all day."

He grinned at her. "I could sit on the couch and watch movies instead. Or do both."

"Not for long," she warned, but she smiled, knowing he was just teasing her.

As they ate dessert, Victoria said, "What are you going to say to Brett's mom and dad?"

"That depends on what they say. If he's grounded, you'll have to wait for your date."

"I know," she sighed. "I get that he was trying to be romantic, but that was really dumb. When he told me, I wanted to shake him. He was so surprised I was angry. Like I should have swooned or something."

Liam snorted. "He should run his bright idea past somebody next time."

Patrick said, "Let me tell you, son, no woman wants to have to bail you out of jail."

"I can tell you that from experience," Teresa muttered.

Victoria said, "But you married him anyway."

"Your father's arrests were all related to catching criminals," Teresa pointed out. "His romantic escapades were all law abiding."

"Mostly," Patrick grinned, winking at her. She fought a blush as she realized he was thinking about a drunken cab ride in Seattle.

It was time to change the subject, she decided. "Any concerns about moving other than Blueberry?"

Liam asked, "Are we taking our furniture, or can I pick new?"

Patrick said, "I was thinking we'd leave this house furnished for when we want to come back. The condo will have a modern feel to it, so our furniture wouldn't really fit in."

"Cool."

Teresa reflected on how different this conversation would be if Patrick didn't have access to a seemingly limitless supply of money. Though the list of casinos he wasn't welcome in had grown over the years, he remained confident he could score big when necessary. Plus, he'd invested wisely, and they'd lived off their salaries comfortably after buying the farm outright. Never worrying about money was a great gift she never took for granted.

She was a little concerned that the kids didn't know what it was like to really not be able to afford something, though. Well, Victoria would learn to live on a budget at school, and if Liam got a job she would make a case for reducing his allowance accordingly. She wanted them to know how to live within their means.

It was Victoria's night to clean up, so Liam left after dinner to meet his band, rehearsing for a party they were playing at tomorrow. She was surprised he was so enthusiastic about going on stage, but he loved to play so much it apparently overcame his natural shyness. That, and he loved praise, like his father.

Teresa sat down to catch up on some more work while Patrick read. It was a normal Friday night, but she realized with a pang that those were numbered. She would probably be spending Friday nights flying for the next several months. Even after they were settled, there would be only three of them. Without Victoria's whirlwind presence, currently manifesting as humming, clinking dishes, and talking to Belle as she hung out hoping for scraps, the dynamic would be different. Plus, Patrick might be hoping to whisk her off to the Kennedy Center for date nights, or Liam might find himself a band in DC. She bet he was already avidly researching the area's music scene.

This job was a godsend in more ways than one. At least she and Patrick wouldn't be alone in this big house mourning their empty nest.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Victoria went upstairs, and Teresa heard her talking cheerfully, no doubt chatting with a friend, and walking around, probably making wardrobe choices for her date. That was a little surprising, since if Brett were her son his ass would be grounded for at least a week. Were the Masons lenient parents? She supposed she'd find out soon. She wasn't expecting them to call until tomorrow, since they'd need to discuss and agree on their disciplinary measures.

But around 10 p.m., Patrick's phone rang. He'd just taken Belle out, so she glanced at it and, seeing an unfamiliar local number, answered. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Jane?"

"Yes."

"This is Melinda Mason, Brett's mother. I'm sorry to call so late, but I didn't think I'd be able to sleep until I apologized to you for my son's behavior."

"We're still up, so it's no problem," Teresa assured her. "And no harm was done, thank goodness. But we are pretty security conscious, so it was dangerous, and I wanted to make sure he realized that."

"Of course, and thank you for insisting he tell me. He's very ashamed of himself, and I hope he apologized to you."

"He did, yes."

"Good. He'll be doing his least favorite chores for quite a while. But I've decided not to forbid the date tomorrow, as long as you agree. You see, Brett's always been impulsive, and this was just an especially unfortunate instance of that. But your Victoria is such a smart and organized girl, and I'm hoping her ability to think things through might rub off on him. I was so pleased to hear he'd asked her out. And I want to assure you that I've pounded it into his head that he must act like a responsible adult on this date, so there won't be any crazy jaunts to the beach in the middle of the night or other nonsense."

Teresa raised her eyebrows, wishing Patrick was here to offer an opinion. "I would hope Victoria knows better than that, but I appreciate it," she said. "Since no one is immune to impulse."

"Exactly. I'm so glad you understand. I know you work in law enforcement so you've probably seen your fair share of impulses gone wrong."

"Yes, you could say that."

Mrs. Mason sounded relieved. "Thank you for taking it so well. You'd be within your rights to banish him from your property and lecture me for raising an idiot."

Teresa chuckled. "I raised three brothers. I know sometimes you can do your best and they still act like idiots."

"Yes, but I bet they didn't sneak up to an FBI agent's house knowing the girl's father lost a child to an intruder!" She sounded exasperated, which Teresa could identify with.

"No, but it wouldn't have shocked me." Sounded like something Jimmy would do, she thought. "We all make mistakes, and as long as it isn't repeated, we can put it behind us."

"Thank you so much for giving him a second chance. You'll see him tomorrow, then."

"Victoria will be thrilled. Have a good night."

"Oh, you too. See you at graduation, if not before!"

As she hung up, Teresa realized that graduation was much closer than it seemed and was probably the big event looming in most of the twins' classmates' families. Her new job and the move had overshadowed it in their own, which wasn't fair. She needed to make sure she didn't lose sight of it no matter how busy and chaotic things got.

"Who was that?" Patrick asked as he and Belle came in.

"Melinda Mason. She apologized, and she's letting the date go forward. Apparently she's hoping our daughter will be a good influence on him."

Patrick grinned. "Now that's a first for a Jane."

"Are you okay with this?"

He shrugged. "No good reason to say no. I don't like him much, but I'm not sure I'd like any boy who wanted to date my teenage daughter. How did she seem?"

Teresa thought for a moment. "Normal. Embarrassed and exasperated."

"If this turns into more than one or two dates, I want to meet his parents," Patrick said. "I mean, I know we've met them at school, but really get to know them. Have them over for dinner or something."

"Good idea. As long as you do it when I'm here."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He leaned down to kiss her cheek and retrieve his phone.

Victoria came into the room. "Brett says his mom called."

"Yes, I did." Teresa kept her poker face on.

"Well?" She looked from one parent to the other.

Teresa smiled. "The date is on."

Victoria squealed with delight, then flung her arms around Teresa. "Thank you!"

Patrick accepted his hug happily, but said, "As far as I'm concerned, he's on probation."

"Don't worry, Daddy." She winked at him as she turned toward the door. "I won't do anything you wouldn't do!"

Patrick groaned as she left, looking at Teresa. "I'd rather she not do anything you wouldn't do."

She grinned. "That might not be as comforting as you think, Paddy."

He grinned back. "True. Since we have a kid free evening tomorrow, what shall we do for date night?"

She became serious. "I was hoping for a home cooked meal, a bottle of wine, and maybe looking at condos and furniture online."

"Perfect." He kissed her again. "Then that's what we'll do."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** So this is a short chapter, but hopefully an enjoyable one. Thank you for reading, and if you choose to let me know what you think, please know it will make me very happy. But no pressure! ;)

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Patrick managed to hold himself together by keeping busy the next day, putting in motion some of the plans he had made last night. He called the rental office he'd chosen and made an appointment for next weekend, bought four airline tickets for a quick trip out to see the place and sign the paperwork, and started looking online at furniture. He didn't want Teresa living in a hotel if he could avoid it.

When he got tired of that, he started researching therapy animal programs for Blueberry and making notes of calls to make Monday. He took a break to walk with Belle and look over his garden, mostly dormant for winter. It gave him a pang to realize he likely wouldn't be here to eat anything he planted this spring.

The more he and Teresa talked about living apart, the more he realized he wanted to move to Washington as soon after graduation as possible. Victoria would need to be here at least part of the time to look after her horse through the summer, and Liam probably would want to hang out with his band, but surely they could manage to split their time between homes.

Lunch was a solitary affair; Victoria made herself a sandwich and headed off to ride before Liam had even emerged from his room. Like his mother, he only tolerated being active before noon because other people needed him to; on Saturdays he indulged himself by skipping mornings altogether.

Teresa allowed Patrick to pack her a lunch and headed into the office to work on some budget report or other. He supposed she would basically be working two jobs until her replacement was identified and brought up to speed.

It was 12:23 when Liam wandered into the kitchen, hair sticking out every which way like he was still a little boy. Patrick grinned. "Lunch or breakfast?"

"Breakfast," Liam replied, collapsing into a chair. "And a Coke."

"You can have tea," Patrick replied. "Scrambled eggs?"

"Okay."

Patrick busied himself at the stove. Also like his mother, Liam wasn't a great conversationalist until he'd been awake for at least an hour, so there was no point in trying to chat.

When the kettle whistled, Liam got up and rifled through the tea chest, picking a strong black tea bag to dunk into the mug of hot water Patrick poured. Liam carried the mug back to the table, and after a few sips, said, "I remember you used to tell Vic stuff before she went onstage to calm herself down."

"To help with stage fright, yes. I always used to get it before I went on. Sick to my stomach and all that. I had to learn some tricks to deal with it, since backing out wasn't an option with my dad." Patrick didn't talk about his father much, and when he did he tended to edit his memories, but the twins knew his early career had been his father's idea.

"Can you teach me?"

"Sure. I'm happy to. I just wish I was going to be there to hear you tonight."

Liam grimaced. "Not your scene, Dad. This is a paid gig, anyway. I can't bring a guest."

"I know. Find me a few minutes before you have to leave and I'll give you some breathing exercises." He'd tailor them depending on how nervous Liam was at the time.

"Okay. Thanks Dad."

Patrick tipped the eggs out of the pan and onto the waiting plate, then handed it to Liam and sat down with his own cup of tea. "I know you know this, Liam, but since you'll be at a party where there's alcohol around—"

"I know, I know, Dad."

"I know you do. And I know you understand what will happen if your mother is ever humiliated by having SacPD call her to come get one of her kids."

Liam grinned. "I'd never set foot outside the house again?"

"Except for me to drive you to school and pick you up after."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not stupid, Dad."

"No, you're not. But we Janes sometimes have impulse control issues. Remember you're a Lisbon too, okay?"

"I will."

"And if you forget, call me. Do not drive if you've had any alcohol at all. Do not think you can judge your level of sobriety. You can't. I learned that one the hard way when I was about your age."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Went out with some townies, drank some cheap beer one of them got from somewhere, and did some stupid stuff that ended with me running a pickup into a ditch. We all walked away, luckily. But that was just luck. Learn from my mistakes, please."

"Don't worry, Dad."

"That's a contradiction in terms," Patrick smiled. "I've been worrying about you since the minute I found out about you. And I always will."

Liam rolled his eyes, looking very much like his mother in that moment. "I promise I won't get behind the wheel if I slip up and have a drink, okay? I'll call you. You'll come get me without the lecture."

Patrick chuckled. "If I don't lecture you, your mother will. Pick your poison."

"Don't worry. I know if I want you to trust me, I have to earn it. You're going to want to go be with Mom a lot after she moves, and if you feel like you have to be here hovering over us, you'll be grumpy as a bear. Nobody wants that." He grinned.

"Smart boy."

mmm

Teresa made sure to be home in time to see Liam off to his concert and join Patrick in helping Victoria put the finishing touches on her hair and wardrobe. As Teresa showed her daughter the finer points of mascara and lipstick, Patrick watched with an aching heart. His little princess was almost grown up. She was beautiful and brilliant and far too good for the banal, prosaic world she was poised to fling herself into.

"Perfume?" Victoria asked hopefully.

Teresa sighed a little. "The only perfume I have is the French stuff your father gave me."

Patrick tried not to look pained. "That was designed specifically for your body chemistry. It may not smell the same on Victoria. Besides, Princess, it might clash with that body lotion you're wearing, which smells quite nice, I might add."

"You can smell that?" Victoria gave him an incredulous look.

"I can. Gardenias are my favorite flower, you know. Besides, you don't want to overwhelm him on the first date. Leave yourself room to raise the bar," he advised.

Victoria looked suspicious, obviously wondering if he was manipulating her, but Teresa said, "Very good advice. You don't want to be too eager. Make him work a little to impress you."

"And speaking of boys and eagerness," Patrick said, "this would be the moment to reiterate our expectation that you will limit physical contact to kissing, preferably with no tongue involved."

"Dad, ew," she complained.

"This is no more fun for me than it is for you," he informed her. "But it's important. And not just for the religious reasons your mother has discussed with you."

"I know, Dad. We don't need to talk about it," she said quickly.

"Yes, we do. It's a normal bodily function," Patrick said. "We all have urges. The key is to make sure your brain is in charge, not your body." He took a deep breath. "And if you decide to give in to your urges, protect your health." He pulled a foil packet out of his pocket and put it on her dressing table.

"Da-ad."

"It's tempting to live in the moment. But don't lose sight of your future."

"I know."

She did, he knew; his daughter was ambitious. He just hoped she remembered in the heat of the moment.

He hoped even more there would be no heat of the moment.

Teresa said, "Good. We're very proud of you, you know, sweetheart."

"I know, Mom." Victoria looked desperate to have this conversation over with, and Patrick couldn't blame her. But he wanted her to have more to go on than his father's brusque, "Knock her up and you're on your own, kid."

Teresa continued, "If things seem like they're getting out of control, you can call us. Okay? Your safety is the most important thing."

Patrick raised his eyebrows, but he knew he shouldn't have been surprised. It was the difference in the male and female experience that women thought about physical safety in dating and men rarely if ever did.

Victoria refrained from rolling her eyes, but just barely. "I'm not worried about that. But if it will make you feel better, fine, I promise I'll call if I don't feel safe."

"It does make me feel better," Teresa said. "And remember your self-defense training."

"Got it."

Patrick hadn't liked the idea of teaching the twins to shoot, but he'd been all for them learning self-defense. They'd had their first class at age 10 and refreshers periodically as they grew, and he knew Teresa had given her daughter some expert tips on disabling someone bigger and stronger.

"Geez," Victoria sighed, "you guys sure know how to suck all the romance out of a date."

"Romance is Brett's and your job," Patrick said. "We're parenting; that's our job."

"Well, consider it done," she said brightly.

"Never," he chuckled. "Have fun tonight, Princess. In by midnight, for my sanity, please."

"Yes, Dad."

Teresa said, "And now, pictures."

"Mo-om." Victoria stood, fluffed her hair, and put her hands on her hips.

"It's a special occasion. Your brother had to pose too," Teresa smiled.

The doorbell rang as Teresa was snapping the first photo, and Patrick left to answer it. Victoria called after him, "Don't be melodramatic, Dad!"

"I'll be exactly as dramatic as necessary," he called back.

He'd barely gotten the door open before Teresa and Victoria came down the stairs, so he skipped the greeting he'd planned and merely said, "Good evening, Brett. Come in."

"Thank you, Mr. Jane."

Patrick was highly amused by the look of dread Teresa gave the bouquet Brett was holding and the relief on her face when he held it out to Victoria. "Wow. You look gorgeous."

"Thanks." Victoria gave him a demure smile that didn't quite conceal her satisfaction. "You look nice too."

"Have her home by midnight," Teresa said, her tone pleasant but her eyes fierce.

"Yes, ma'am," Brett said. "We'd better be going. Have a good evening!"

"Have fun," Teresa called after them.

"But not too much," Patrick muttered.

After the door was closed, they looked at each other. In the silence, they heard a peal of laughter from Victoria, then car doors closing and an engine starting.

Teresa sighed. "Wow. That was tougher than I thought."

"Yeah. Now we have five hours to try not to worry," Patrick said.

"Why don't we look at it as five hours to bring a little romance to our evening?" Teresa smiled.

"Absolutely. I have your favorite pot roast in the slow cooker and a lovely Cabernet ready to decant," Patrick replied, dropping a kiss on her lips. "But first, there's something I have to do."

Teresa gave him a look. "Rip open your daughter's tiny teddy bear?"

He grinned. "I love it when you read my mind."

"And who's going to sew it up again when you're done?" She folded her arms.

"I am. Who do you think mended my clothes growing up? Sam taught me to sew when I was eight." Patrick headed to the master bedroom, Teresa following him curiously. He retrieved the small sewing kit he'd bought this morning while picking up groceries, then headed to Victoria's room.

He'd noted the location of the teddy bear earlier, leaning against the lamp on the nightstand where Victoria could see it when she went to sleep and woke up. Pausing to memorize its exact position, Patrick picked it up and carried it downstairs to the kitchen, sitting at the table. The he took out the seam ripper and carefully began opening the stuffed toy's side.

Teresa came in and lifted the pot off the slow cooker, releasing a delicious aroma and giving an ecstatic "Mmm" that Patrick found extremely distracting. That was probably her intent, he reflected.

She sat down across from him as he began pulling out the cheap synthetic batting. "What are you hoping to find?"

"Hopefully nothing," he replied. "But wouldn't this be a good hiding place for a bug, or a tiny camera?"

She grimaced. "I could have taken it to work and run it through the security scanner."

"And wouldn't you have felt silly doing that," he murmured, pulling out the last of the stuffing. He stared at it for a moment to ensure he wasn't missing any electronics.

"Apparently." She picked up the wad of batting and rolled it between her fingers. Then she refluffed it and set it down with a sigh. "Ever think you're losing it, Patrick?"

"I try not to." He began re-stuffing the bear, frowning as he had trouble getting all the batting back in.

"It didn't look lopsided before, did it?" Teresa asked, eyeing it dubiously.

"Hm? No." Patrick held it up and stuck his fingers inside, trying to shift the stuffing. The poor bear looked like it was infested with a large parasite. And it still didn't look like the cute, happy toy Victoria had left on her nightstand.

He was so screwed.

Teresa began to snicker. "You are in so much trouble. And for once, I'm not going to save you."

"You don't consider this falls into the category of 'for better or worse'?" He gave her his best puppy dog look.

"Oh, I still love you, Paddy. I'm just not going to defend you when our daughter has a screaming fit because you destroyed the first gift her first boyfriend ever gave her." She smirked.

"One date does not a boyfriend make," he protested. "So I'm on my own, hm?" He got to his feet.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to hit every shop in a ten mile radius of school that might possibly sell this silly thing."

As he headed for the door, he heard Teresa sigh and follow him. "Some date night. You've really outdone yourself this time, Patrick."

He stopped to catch her in one arm and give her a toe curling kiss. "It'll go faster if we split the search area."

She tried to keep a smile off her face. "You better make it worth my while."

"Oh, I will. Bet on it."

mmm

Teresa found the replacement in a clearance bin at a department store in the mall and texted him, so they were back home within two hours. It was getting late, so they ate immediately after Jane put the new bear in exactly the spot the original had been. The original went into a shopping bag he tied tightly and then into the trash.

"This is really good," Teresa said as she scraped her plate clean.

"The best thing about a slow cooker is that a little extra time only makes it better," Patrick agreed, sipping his wine. "I'll buy you one and make up some ingredient bundles when we move you out, so you can make them when I'm not there. Easy enough to toss it all in as you leave for work and then presto! Dinner is ready when you walk in the door that evening."

"It seems a waste to cook for just one." She shrugged.

"Better than living on takeout or microwave popcorn." He wanted to make her promise she'd eat well on her own, but he doubted she'd keep it. Even with the best of intentions, she'd probably revert to the workaholic ways she'd had when she was single.

"It won't be for long," she said. "You'll get to feed me most weekends to make sure I don't fade away."

"Good. Because I love every inch of you, and I don't want to lose a single one of them," he smiled.

"Flatterer," she chuckled.

"The kids' spring break is in three weeks. I thought we'd move you out then, if that works with your schedule."

"It should. Abbott's anxious to get my team up and running." She finished her wine. "Patrick, I am an adult who lived on her own for many years. You don't have to treat me like one of the twins. I can manage."

"I know."

She gave him a long, affectionate look. "And I know you worry about my food intake because you feel that's more acceptable than worrying about my safety. But I'm going to be fine on both counts."

"I know you will."

She reached out a hand, and he took it. "Patrick, if this is too hard—"

"No. It's hard, but it's not too hard. We've been through hard times before, right? We can do this."

Teresa squeezed his hand. "I really think we could do anything we put our minds to."

"Absolutely."

mmm

Teresa went to bed at 11, citing Mass in the morning as her excuse, though Patrick suspected she just didn't want to be seen as the anxious parent. Victoria was home by 11:30, evidently not wanting to take chances. Patrick's scrutiny revealed that she was walking on air with no guilty thoughts in her head, so he was able to return her goodnight hug wholeheartedly. "Have fun?" he asked.

"Yes. We went to this diner that's supposed to be like the 50s and had malts and burgers. Then we went to see Casablanca at the old theater. It was totally retro."

Patrick had pegged Brett as someone who'd splurge on a fancy restaurant to impress, but he seemed to have taken Victoria's tastes into account. "Good."

"I can't wait for our second date," she called over her shoulder as she went up the stairs.

Patrick ventured no reply to that. He was glad she'd had a nice evening, but he'd hoped it would be a one-time thing. No such luck.

Liam hurried in the door at 11:58, looking exhausted but happy. "Hey Dad."

"Hi, son. How'd it go?"

"Great. They really liked us. We played two extra sets and had to hustle for me to make it home on time." He headed for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. "Mom asleep already?" he asked as his father joined him.

"Yes, so no hope of sleeping through Mass tomorrow. Best get to bed."

"Okay. See you in the morning."

"Later this morning," Patrick corrected, glancing at the clock on the oven. "Sweet dreams, Liam." He ruffled his son's hair as he went past.

"Thanks for the breathing exercises. They helped," Liam said with a grin.

"Anytime."

After Liam had gone upstairs, Patrick made his usual circuit of the house to check all the doors were locked and the alarms set, then double checked it all. Only then did he go upstairs. Belle was in her dog bed at the end of the hall where she could keep an eye on any nighttime wanderers, and he gave her a pet before closing the master bedroom door behind him.

"Everybody okay?" Teresa asked.

"Sounds like they both had a better night than we did," he replied, undressing and putting his pajamas on, then slipping into bed and turning off the lamp.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Guilty as charged." He brushed a kiss against the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for all this normality, Teresa. I must be the only man in the world who finds his daughter dating more terrifying than a cult plotting against us."

She hummed drowsily, then rolled over to face him. "I think it's just because a cult plotting against us is familiar and our children becoming adults is unknown territory."

"You may be right." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"You don't like change that much, and there's an awful lot of change going on," she said, stroking his cheek. "Don't beat yourself up."

"I'm trying to focus on the things that don't change," he replied. "Like the fact that you love me no matter where you are."

"That will never change," she whispered. She kissed him, then asked, "And apparently, neither will the fact that I keep pulling your ass of out trouble. What was your plan B if we couldn't find another bear?"

Patrick grimaced. "I was going to throw Belle under the bus. Which I admit would have been something of a new low."

"Oh, so Belle carefully picked a seam out of a stuffed toy?"

"Well, some creative canine-like destruction would have been required."

"Still a stretch to believe our well behaved dog suddenly went on a spree and, out of everything in this house, chose to destroy a single stuffed toy."

"So critical. I guess I would have had to sacrifice a couple other items to lend verisimilitude to that story."

Teresa chuckled. "And here I thought our night couldn't have been worse. But watching you try to imitate a destructive dog would have been. Though it might also have been funny."

"I always like to amuse you."

"And I like to be amused." She slung her arm around his waist. "It's going to be okay, Patrick. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know," he assured her, tucking his face against her neck and kissing the spot where it met her shoulder. "Love you."

"Love you too," she yawned.

Patrick counted sixteen of her breaths before he succumbed to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Thanks for being patient with the pace of this story so far. I think we're picking up speed now. Those of you continuing to read and review are very much appreciated! I feel our fandom is shrinking and it makes me so sad. I want to hug all of you still here!

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Teresa dove into her week determined to get all her work finished in time to board the red eye flight her husband had booked to DC Friday night. She wanted to focus on her family as they picked out their new home base. The twins had greeted the news that their father had commandeered their weekend with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, but she was hoping for some quality family time on their short trip. Surely they could manage to have some fun before leaving DC Sunday afternoon.

On Wednesday, she didn't manage to eat the delicious lunch Patrick had packed her until after two, and she gulped it down while reviewing metrics for her 3 p.m. management meeting. She ignored her phone when it buzzed, but then felt guilty. Bad enough she was leaving her family in a few weeks; she should be fully present for them in the time she had left with them.

 _The kids are okay,_ Patrick had texted. She was puzzled for a second, then alarmed, but she barely had time to panic before his second text came in. _Car not okay. Hit and run._ Then he sent her a picture of the kids' car tilted into a ditch. Even knowing they were okay, it made her sick to her stomach. She quickly dialed him.

"They're okay," he greeted her. "No need to panic. They aren't even going to the hospital. Just some bruises, and Victoria has a little cut on her face from where her purse hit her."

Teresa took a deep breath. "Okay."

"They're pretty shaken up. Apparently the other driver didn't even slow down." He was holding down rage; she could hear it in his voice. It matched hers.

"I'll be home early," she promised. "Right after my meeting. Unless they need me now?"

"No, we're good. But SacPD is here so I didn't want you to hear it on the grapevine," he said. "I'm going to take them home and—" He broke off, and then he must have pulled the phone away from his mouth, because he sounded very distant as he called, "Hey! What are you doing?"

She couldn't make out the response, but it seemed like a lengthy one. "Patrick?" she prompted when she couldn't stand it anymore.

His voice came through strong but angry. "I need you to meet me at the station." Then he hung up.

Teresa grabbed her things, barely remembering to log off her computer. Then she hurried to the elevator, nearly bumping into one of her colleagues in the hall. "Family emergency," she explained. "Can you tell Margolis for me?"

"Sure. Good luck!" he called after her.

Teresa knew SacPD's operations pretty well after a career spent liaising with them, so she didn't have to think too hard about where her family would be, given the route between school and home. Why she needed to go there was the question. Had SacPD found the driver who'd hit them? Was this more than a random accident?

It was hard to focus on driving the speed limit when she wanted to be there five minutes ago. This couldn't be a plot, she comforted herself. Running the kids into a ditch didn't achieve anything. Even if the intention had been to kill them, what could possibly be the motive? And why choose such an uncertain method?

It was just a stupid random accident. She was grateful it was a minor one, not the life-changing kind. God. She didn't know how she would ever cope if anything happened to one, or worse both, of her kids. And Patrick...no, he wouldn't come back from that. If she was honest, she wasn't sure their marriage could survive such a blow. They wouldn't be the same people, after.

She clutched her cross and said a quick prayer of thanksgiving for being spared the worst. Whatever awaited her, she still had her babies and her husband. She could face anything as long as she had them.

She'd spent a lot of time worrying about what would happen to her family if she were killed in the line of duty, but now she was confronted with the opposite question. It was too painful to dwell on, especially since she'd experienced a sudden, shattering loss from a random accident once before in her life. She knew exactly the kind of wreckage it could leave behind.

Parking at the police station, she hurried inside. There was no sign of Patrick or the kids, so she approached the main desk. "I'm looking for Patrick Jane."

The officer frowned. "Who?"

So much for her assumption he was unforgettable. "He should have come in a few minutes ago with our teenagers."

"Agent Lisbon?" a familiar voice asked behind her. "To what do we owe the honor of a visit from the FBI?"

She turned with a sense of relief at finding a friendly face. "Detective Newman. I'm not here on FBI business. I'm looking for my husband and kids. Have you seen them?"

"Haven't seen any Lisbons come through," he frowned.

"No, my husband's name is Jane. Patrick Jane."

"Oh." She couldn't quite identify Newman's expression, but it was obvious he knew him. "Didn't realize he was married to you. Come on, I'll take you back."

She followed him down the hallway. "He didn't have a chance to tell me what happened after the accident."

Newman stopped. "Your boy reached into the glove compartment to get the insurance information and a bag of cocaine fell out."

Teresa was stunned. "What?"

"It was a small quantity, so we're going with possession, but no intent to distribute," he assured her.

"My children are not doing cocaine," she said firmly.

"Yeah, nobody's are," he sighed. "Amazing it's so popular again if that's the case. This'll be the third bust of high school kids with coke this month."

"And you're running the bag for prints, I assume?"

"Yeah, Mr. Jane insisted. The teens at first said they didn't know anything about it, but then the boy confessed. They're all in there together now. Irregular, but your husband gets his way a lot, doesn't he?"

"You could say that." This couldn't be happening. Surely she was having a nightmare.

"Tell you what," Newman said. "Your kids seem like good kids. Maybe it's true one of their friends stuck it in there and they didn't know. If their prints aren't on the bag, I'd be willing to let you handle this. I feel sure you'll see there's not a repeat incident."

"You can count on that," she said grimly. "Thank you, Detective Newman. I appreciate your help."

"Hey, I got kids too," he smiled. "No matter how smart they are, they have their boneheaded moments. I'd hate to ruin your boy's future over one isolated mistake. Poor kid, he's terrified. Not likely to take up a career in pharmaceuticals, if you ask me."

"Absolutely not." Teresa felt physical pain at the idea of her sensitive son being interrogated by cops. She needed to get into that room. "Can you do me another favor and rush the prints?"

"Sure. Always happy to help out a fellow officer of the law."

"I owe you," she said. "I hope I can help you out someday. But I hope it won't involve your kids."

"You and me both. My ex would be having a screaming fit in your shoes," he grinned. "Come on. You can take them home in a few minutes, I hope."

He led her to an interrogation room and opened the door, then stepped back. Teresa hurried inside, taking in the room at a glance. The cop faded to obscurity as she saw Patrick sitting at the side of the table, his posture aggressively nonchalant, one leg crossed over the other, leaning on one elbow with his sleeves rolled up. She recognized immediately that he was actively distracting the interrogator, drawing attention from their children in full protective mode.

Then her gaze moved to Victoria's pale face, a bandage covering part of her cheek, and Liam's hunched posture, face hidden by his long bangs. She moved toward them as if pulled, bending to hug her daughter and then examine her face. "You okay, sweetie?"

Victoria's voice shook, but just a little. "Yeah, Mom."

Teresa knew her composure was mostly an act, and she didn't want to shatter it with solicitude. She turned to Liam, who cringed a little as she hugged him. "It's okay," she whispered in his ear, and he sucked in a ragged breath.

Newman said to his colleague, "I got this, Piper. Thanks."

"Sure thing." Piper seemed glad to escape. From Patrick's edgy smile, she could see why.

Teresa remained standing between the twins, laying a hand on each one's shoulder, as Newman took Piper's seat. She trusted him, but she wanted the kids to know she had their backs, no matter what.

"You want me to run it for you, Agent Lisbon?" he asked.

She recognized this as an offer to drive home the seriousness of the situation to the kids, but she could feel the tension in Victoria and a quiver of anxiety in Liam. "I think I've got it, Detective. Thank you. I appreciate you being willing to let this pass with a warning."

"Not so fast. We're still waiting on the prints," he warned.

Teresa looked down at her children. "Are either of your prints on that bag?" she asked, though the fact that Patrick had insisted on checking told her the likely answer.

"No," Victoria said firmly.

Liam shrugged.

She wouldn't ask the other questions until they got home; there was no sense in incriminating them. "Then we wait. Do you need anything to drink or eat? Victoria, you look pale."

"I...maybe ginger ale?" she ventured, uncharacteristically unsure.

"And a chocolate bar," Teresa said firmly. "Liam?"

"Coke? The soda," he whispered.

"And chips," she decided. They were both jittery from adrenaline, but they'd be crashing soon. They'd need sugar for short term and carbs to hold them until they got home. "Patrick?"

"I don't have any cash on me for the vending machines," he replied, getting up.

Teresa pulled out her money clip and counted off ten dollars, then handed it to him. He met her eyes for the first time since she'd come in and, to her astonishment, winked. "Deja vu," he said softly.

She remembered all the times he'd bummed money off her at the CBI and had to smile a little. "Pay me back," she murmured.

He grinned and left.

Teresa turned back to the twins with a lighter heart. If Patrick could joke around, he must be pretty sure this wasn't as bad as it looked. "Did you see the car that hit you?"

Liam shook his head, but Victoria said, "Black pickup, tinted windows. California plates starting with A15."

"Good job," Teresa said, impressed.

"Dad helped me remember," she said. "I was driving, so I saw them in the rear view mirror before they sideswiped us. Sorry about the car. Is it totaled?"

"Don't worry about the car," Teresa told her. "How's your head?"

"Hurts a little."

"I'll give you some painkiller when your drink comes. Liam, were you hurt?"

He shook his head.

"Good. That's the important thing."

Patrick returned with an armful of snacks and distributed them. "They didn't have ginger ale, Princess, so I got you the lemon-lime thing you like. And caramel in your candy bar. Liam, here's your soda and peanut M&Ms and some cheese curls. Victoria, I wasn't sure if you wanted sour cream and chive or barbecue, so I got both. I'll eat what you don't want."

"Thanks, Dad," Liam said, gulping his Coke.

"Barbecue please. Thanks." Victoria looked a little less wan as she ate her candy bar.

"Chocolate is good for stress," he said, handing Teresa her favorite milk chocolate bar.

She wasn't really hungry, but chocolate sounded good, so she nibbled on it while Patrick made a show of offering a chip to Detective Newman. "How long have you known Agent Lisbon?"

Newman smiled. "Must be going on twenty years. Since you two worked together. I didn't recognize you until I saw you together, but you were her consultant, right? The one who took down Red John?"

Patrick grimaced a little at the name. "That's me. Then I settled down into domestic bliss with my lovely wife and children for several years before joining the FBI. I retired recently."

"FBI, huh? Don't remember seeing you around."

"Oh, I only worked specialized cases," Patrick replied. "Not in the field, much. So cocaine is making a comeback, hm?"

"Yeah. Used to be for the rich, but now they're all into the synthetic stuff, the heroin you can't OD on. So cocaine's cheap. It's all the rage with stupid kids who should know better and strung out losers who can't afford anything fancier."

"Hm." Patrick tapped his lips with a finger. "Odd choice for a rich kid. Which nearly all the kids who go to school with my children are. The ones on scholarship are motivated as hell, very unlikely to screw up their one shot with drugs. I'd have guessed if any of their friends were messing with illicit substances, it would be fancy designer stuff they got from their parents' stash."

"True," Newman said. "You're saying you don't believe your kid would slum it with cheap drugs?"

"I certainly raised him to have better taste," Patrick said. "But I don't in fact believe the drugs belong to either of my children."

"Your son confessed."

"Please. You and I have both seen scared kids making false confessions, for any number of reasons."

Newman nodded. "You're saying he made a false statement to the police?"

Teresa decided to jump in. "Liam's always been an honest kid."

Newman waved a hand. "Don't worry, Lisbon. I'm really hoping you get to take him home today. But I've seen way too many kids get into serious trouble because their parents stuck their heads in the sand. Don't assume you're the only influence in their lives."

"I assure you," Patrick said, his tone less friendly, "I will do whatever it takes to ensure my children never sit on the wrong side of an interrogation again."

"Good."

Teresa was relieved when the door opened and Piper stuck his head in. "Bag's clean. Wiped."

"Well." Newman smiled and got to his feet, looking at Liam. "I'm glad you were smart about being stupid. Be smarter and stay away from that stuff and the people messing with it from now on."

"Yessir," Liam muttered.

"Then you're free to go. Agent Lisbon, I'll leave this in your hands."

Teresa shook his hand. "Thank you. Let me know if I can ever do anything for you."

Newman grinned. "Just keep catching the bad guys. See you around."

As he left, Teresa reflected that he probably wouldn't, though this incident certainly cast doubt on her decision to transfer. It suddenly seemed that all was not well with her family, and it was hardly fair to leave the mess to Patrick. Though she was sure he would deal with it, he might choose a dubiously legal way to do so.

Patrick got up, taking her elbow and drawing her over to the corner. "Do you have to go back to work?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed down the "Yes" that immediately occurred to her, modifying it to, "Not right away."

Patrick looked relieved. "Good. You take Victoria home. Liam will ride with me."

Teresa frowned at him, but she knew when he was working a plan, and she wasn't going to get in his way. He was better equipped to deal with Liam, innocent or guilty, at least until she calmed down. And she wanted to get Victoria home without any more stress. "Okay. See you there."

His hand slid down her arm to squeeze her hand as he kissed her, longer than a peck but shorter than she wanted. She felt calmer, though. She hoped he did too.

"See you guys at home," she said as she went over to Victoria, who was getting to her feet and looking a little unsteady. Teresa laid a hand on her back as Patrick opened the door for them, and she led her out of the station.

When they were settled in the car, Teresa rummaged in her bag for some ibuprofen. "Here. Are you feeling nauseated at all?"

"No. But I can't stop shaking." She swallowed the pill and took a swig of her soda.

"That's adrenaline. It'll wear off, and then you'll be tired. Just try to relax." Teresa reached over and stroked her hair, like she had when Victoria was a little girl.

"Okay." Victoria leaned back and closed her eyes.

Teresa drove even more carefully than normal, not wanting to disturb her. But when she turned onto the long driveway, Victoria opened her eyes to look for Blueberry as she always did. The pony was grazing near the house, and as they approached, he lifted his head and began walking toward the fence to greet them.

Victoria burst into tears.

Teresa pulled into her parking space and turned the car off, then unfastened her seat belt and took her daughter into her arms. "Ssh. It's okay."

Victoria's sobbing subsided quickly, and she started to get herself under control. Teresa recognized the breathing exercise as one of Patrick's. "Sorry," Victoria gulped.

"No need to be. You had a scare and then another one. You held yourself together while you needed to and waited until you were safe to have your emotional reaction." She smiled as Victoria sat back. "You did good, sweetheart."

Victoria didn't reply as they got out of the car, but she went over to pet Blueberry as Teresa unlocked the front door and let Belle out. The dog trotted onto the front porch, tail wagging, and happily accepted Teresa's pets before heading over to Victoria. She stopped hugging Blueberry's neck to bend down and hug the dog, and Teresa smiled. A bad scare could radically change your perspective, she knew. Victoria would likely be grateful for her life rather than straining to leave it behind, for a little while anyway.

Teresa went into the house, resolved not to hover though she desperately wanted to. A cold cup of tea had been abandoned on the coffee table in the living room, and she picked it up and took it to the kitchen, refilling the kettle and putting it on the stove. Patrick would need a cup when he got home, she bet. She put the coffee on for herself, too.

Victoria came in and got a glass of water. "I think I'm going to lie down for a minute."

"Take all the time you need. Call me if you need anything." Teresa replied.

She heard Victoria go up the stairs much slower than normal, Belle hopping up behind her. A few minutes later, she heard Patrick's car pull up. Liam came in first, slouching up the stairs as his father came into the kitchen.

"Victoria's resting?" he asked, lifting the kettle as it began to whistle.

"Yes. She had a little cry in the car."

"Good. She needed to let it out." He began dunking a teabag in his cup of hot water, then poured her a mug of coffee and set it on the table in front of her. "I told Liam to stay in his room until dinner, which I think he was planning to do anyway."

Teresa sighed, sipping at her coffee. "What happened, Patrick? Where did we go wrong?"

He sipped his tea. "I'm not convinced we did. Liam's lying to me—when I asked him where he got the drugs, his story was unconvincingly vague. But whether he's protecting someone, ashamed of the truth, or really has no idea, I don't know."

Teresa grabbed onto the part of the sentence she most wanted to believe. "You think he might be innocent?"

"Possibly. I'm thinking the first story they told the cops was the true one. Their first impulse has always been honesty—they get that from you, my dear. But then Liam had second thoughts."

"Because he realized who it belonged to?"

"Who it might belong to. Because he can't know for sure. He's confused under his anxiety," Patrick said, leaning back and looking pensive. "But he did ask me if this would make it harder for Victoria to go to her first choice of colleges."

"He thinks the cocaine is Victoria's?" Teresa was aghast. "Is it?"

"No. She wasn't signaling guilt. I'm sure of that."

Teresa rubbed at her forehead. "I keep thinking of what Detective Newman said. Are we seeing only what we want to? Do we have our heads in the sand?"

Patrick sighed, then set his teacup and saucer on the table. "No. This is too important. I'm open to all the possibilities. Our kids' futures are far more important than my ego, though I will admit that discovering I am not the father I thought I was would be a terrible blow to bear. But I would bear it if it meant I could save them."

"I know," she said softly. He would bear anything to save them. So would she.

He reached for her hand. "This is not an indictment of our parenting, Teresa. Your working late had nothing to do with whatever this is. I may not know what is going on, but I'm certain of that. Don't beat yourself up. Guilt is not going to help us solve this."

She wiped at her eyes with her free hand. Dammit, he always knew exactly what was going on in her head. "You're one to talk about not feeling guilty."

"I learned my lesson. Now listen. We're going to let Liam stew for a bit, and then I'm going to talk to him."

"You think you'll be successful this time?" It seemed counterproductive to let Liam think about how to tell a better lie.

"I'm going to pay hardball. It'll be tough, but it's for his own good."

"Hardball?"

"Yes." Patrick blew out his breath. "I'm going to tell him that he's broken your heart, that you think you have failed him and you're going to turn down your promotion. The guilt will make him desperate enough to tell me the truth. I hope. If not, it'll be your turn to try. Feel free to shed a few tears; I doubt he'd withstand that."

"I don't think it'll come to that," she sighed. Her tender hearted son would fold under the guilt, especially under his father's expert manipulation. She didn't think she could sit down here knowing that was going on. "I'd prefer it if we spoke to him together."

"Okay." Patrick agreed so quickly she realized he was relieved. Maybe he'd even intended for her to insist. "Thanks for coming so quickly. I was worried I wasn't going to be able to keep things from getting official."

"It's lucky one of us has always tried to keep things friendly with SacPD," she said.

"Yes, it is." He smiled at her and lifted her hand to his lips. Then he sobered. "I may keep Victoria home from school tomorrow."

"I'm okay with that. She's pretty shaken up."

"Yes, she is. And I'd rather she got her comfort at home than from Brett."

Teresa grinned a little at the face he made. "I always knew you were going to take her first boyfriend pretty hard. He's not replacing you, you know. Nobody could."

Patrick grumbled, "Just wait until Liam brings home a girl."

"Better a girl than an arresting officer." She took a deep breath. "He knows better, right? You've always told the kids their brains are their biggest asset. He wouldn't do anything to screw it up, would he? You've met those kids in his band. Could one of them have put the drugs in the car?"

"Yes, no, and yes," Patrick said. "But I stand by my earlier point. None of those kids are the type to go cheap. If one of them put the drugs in the car, it wasn't because they wanted to keep it safe. They were either tossing out unwanted crap or trying to frame the kids."

"A frame up?" Teresa frowned. "So in this theory, the hit and run was meant to draw police attention to the car?"

"Exactly."

"But why?"

"I don't know. But I bet Liam does."

"That's a pretty elaborate scheme," Teresa said, letting her skepticism show. "Aren't you always saying the simplest answer is usually the correct one?"

"Occam's Razor, yes. But there are no such things as coincidences. And I refuse to believe any child of mine could be stupid enough to think a glove compartment is a good hiding place for illicit drugs."

He had a point. Liam in particular had always been creative at finding hiding places for his treasures. She'd been amazed at all the things they'd found tucked away in their old condo when they moved out. "And if he knew they were there, he wouldn't have opened it in front of a cop," she mused. "Even if he'd forgotten, when he saw it fall out, he would have kicked it under the seat or done some kind of misdirect."

"Yes. He didn't. Which leads me to believe he was too shocked to act."

"He could have just been too shaken up by the accident."

"Meh. Liam forgot all about the accident the minute he saw the drugs. He's working a plan. I know the signs, and so do you."

"Yes." The lack of eye contact and the surly silences were dead giveaways. "But he can be stubborn when he thinks he's right. Like his father."

"Ah, but he's defenseless against his mother's big green eyes," Patrick said. "Also like his father."

She shook her head and smiled. "How long does he need to stew?"

"Go on back to the office," he said. "Can you be home for dinner?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

"Good."

She kissed him as she got up, grateful that he understood she was anxious about everything she'd left undone at work. "Look in on Victoria if she doesn't come down in an hour or so, would you?"

"Don't worry."

She sighed a little. "Too late for that."

mmm

Teresa ran a little late getting home, but she hadn't missed anything. Victoria had decided to have a cup of soup in her room, and Patrick was running late after fussing over her. Liam was still in his room, and the absence of music worried her. "Should I go up and see him?"

"If you like. Dinner will be ready shortly."

She went upstairs, set her briefcase in the master bedroom and took off her jacket, then knocked on Liam's door. "Hi, Liam," she said as she came in.

"Hi, Mom," he mumbled, not looking up from his homework.

"Leave that for a minute," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Come talk to me."

He sighed, but did as she asked. "I'm not on drugs, Mom," he said. "I just...was holding it for someone."

"Equally unwise," she said. "Tell me the truth, Liam Patrick: are you covering for your sister?"

"No! Vic would never do drugs."

"I hope not. But I'm having a hard time understanding why you'd cover for anyone else. Surely you're smart enough to know any kid your age going down that path needs someone to intervene before they ruin their future. I wouldn't thank you for enabling your sister to do something so detrimental to all her dreams, and I'm sure no other parent would either."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

He frowned. "Is it really true there won't be any charges? Nothing on our records?"

"Yes. But only because Detective Newman thinks you're a good kid worth a second chance. And because he thinks it's good to have an FBI agent owe him a favor, which now I do. A huge one."

"Would it have been very embarrassing for you? At work?"

"Yes." She didn't see any reason to lie. "And not just at work. Do you have any idea how much grief I would have gotten from your uncles?"

He huffed in wan amusement. "Yeah." Then he looked worried. "You're not going to tell them, are you?"

"Probably not. If I were going to tell anyone, it's your Uncle Cho. He got into a lot of trouble at your age and might have some useful advice to give you."

"I don't need any advice. I'm not in trouble, Mom. I swear."

"But someone is."

He shrugged.

Teresa sighed. "Fine. Come down to dinner. But I hope you'll think very hard about telling your father and I the truth about what's really going on. He's not going to give up until he knows, you realize. I've seen him get confessions out of hardened criminals. He's ruthless. And he has a plan. Do us all a favor and don't make him use it."

Liam bit his lip and looked away. "Visualize recruits a lot of addicts. Helps them get sober."

"Yes."

"So...if they wanted to recruit someone, making everybody think they were doing drugs would be one way, right?"

"What are you saying? That you think Visualize wants to recruit you?"

"Not me. Victoria. If she got arrested for drugs, it'd screw up her chance at college. It would make her easier to get to. They don't want me, and I'm not going to college this year, so..."

"So you figured you'd take the fall to protect her." Teresa felt a wave of relief at finally making sense of this day, followed by a weird mix of pride and annoyance she'd previously associated with Patrick. "Liam, that is not your job."

"We have to protect our family." He sounded just like his father, with the same stubborn set to his jaw.

"And you're sure this wasn't just one of your friends or hers being careless or playing a prank?"

He rolled his eyes. "None of Victoria's friends would be caught dead with cocaine, any more than they'd wear clothes from Wal-Mart. And everybody in the music scene is into pot, not coke."

"Okay. I'll check it out. But you should have told us this as soon as you got home, Liam. If this really is a frame job, evidence is important. The more time that passes, the more chances it'll get lost or tampered with." Visualize didn't have as much influence in law enforcement these days, but she bet they still had some.

"Okay." He was sitting up a little straighter, she noticed.

"Come downstairs and tell your father," she said, standing.

"I'm not lying," Liam assured her.

"No, he's not," Patrick said, opening the door fully. "Come on, Liam. Eat a good dinner, and we can decide how we want to play this tomorrow."

"Play it for whom?" Teresa demanded.

"For whoever's watching," Patrick replied, clapping Liam on the shoulder as he passed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the great feedback from the last chapter! I so appreciate all of you!

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Patrick woke up before dawn with a thought crystal clear in his mind: if someone wanted him and Teresa to believe their daughter was doing drugs, a simple bag in the glove compartment wasn't going to do it. There would be more, planted elsewhere. Somewhere more personal. And why not use the boyfriend, knowingly or not? It would have to be subtle not to turn up in his teddy bear disembowelment, though.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Teresa, and went downstairs. Trash day was Friday, so he hadn't yet emptied the waste cans, including the one in his office. Buried under some papers was the plastic shopping bag containing the remnants of the teddy bear. He slid it into the bottom drawer of his desk and locked it.

Then he checked all the locks and alarms before going back upstairs. It was nearly sunrise, but he didn't feel like starting the day yet. He and Teresa had indulged in a vigorous round of lovemaking last night, seeking comfort and reassurance in each other, and he was tired. Since the twins were staying home today, there was no need to stir until Teresa got up.

She rolled over to face him as he slid back under the covers. "Okay?" she yawned.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep," he whispered, kissing her soft, warm lips.

"Mm." She slid her arm around his waist and hitched a leg over his hip. "How long do we have?"

"Greedy," he murmured approvingly, letting his hands rove under her pajama top. She didn't often indulge him with morning lovemaking, so he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. "Long enough. The kids'll sleep in since they're not going to school."

"I wish I could play hooky with you," Teresa sighed in his ear, her fingertips sliding under the waistband of his pajama pants.

"Me too." He knew she wouldn't, though. This early morning treat was at least partly an expression of her guilt at leaving them soon, but she'd made a commitment to her new job, and Teresa Lisbon always honored her commitments. She was worried about the twins, but he knew she was thinking that they might be safer in Washington. She would create a home there that could serve as a haven if things got worse.

Her nimble fingers reached a certain spot, and he quit thinking for a while. He abandoned himself to sensation, to her heat and the feel of her strong arms and legs around him. In their eighteen years together, he'd never stopped being amazed at how open and trusting she was in bed, at how easily they moved together. He loved knowing her so well. He would never understand how men could become bored with their lovers; every year with Teresa only added to the depth of his pleasure.

Afterward, he held her against his chest as they caught their breath. "I never take this for granted," he whispered. "I never take you for granted."

"I know," she assured him, laying her palm over his heart. "I don't take you for granted either." Then she tucked her head under his chin. "I'm going to miss you so much."

He knew she felt his heart rate increase with the rush of anxiety that came with thinking about their separation. "Don't think about the whole chunk of time. We'll take it week by week and see each other on weekends."

"I hope so." They both knew that cases didn't confine themselves to the workweek, and as the kids' senior year wrapped up, there would be weekends the three of them needed to be here.

He kissed the top of her head. "But just think: every time you walk through your door at night, there's a possibility your exceptionally sexy husband will have decided to surprise you and be waiting for you in bed."

"Will this hypothetical husband have dinner waiting too? Because he's not getting lucky with my stomach empty," she teased.

"He'll have endured a layover in Chicago and brought you your favorite Italian beef sandwich."

Teresa sucked in a breath and leaned up to look him in the eye. "Oh my God, you better not put that thought in my head and then not do it."

He grinned. "As long as you promise to be more glad to see me than the sandwich."

"Of course." She grinned back. "Eventually."

He chuckled as she kissed him. "You're a hard, hard woman, Teresa Lisbon."

"But you love me anyway."

"Yes, I do. Even more than I did the day I married you, which I didn't think possible," he said.

"Me too," she sighed, lowering her head again to lay her cheek on his chest.

Her alarm went off, and she groaned, sitting up to silence it.

"What would you like for breakfast?" he yawned, sitting up too. He could smell the coffeemaker performing its duty.

"Something quick. I want to get in a little early to make up for yesterday," she said.

"I'll cook while you shower," he replied.

mmm

Teresa was long gone by the time Victoria came downstairs. She looked better today, he was glad to see. Hopefully she'd regained her equilibrium after the crash and interrogation. "Breakfast, Princess?" he asked.

"Pancakes?" she suggested.

"Coming right up." Comfort food made sense, and he was glad she was indulging herself. Her weight was absolutely in the normal range, but she'd been dieting since she'd announced her first date.

Liam wandered downstairs as she was finishing, so Patrick made another stack. "You're not eating?" Liam asked as he sat down.

"I ate with your mother earlier. Sleep well?"

"I guess."

That meant no, Patrick translated. "Syrup or jam?"

Liam considered. "Peanut butter."

Patrick wrinkled his nose, but he got the jar out of the cupboard and put it on the table, used to the eccentricities in the kids' food choices.

Once he served Liam, he sat at the table with a fresh cup of tea, subtly scrutinizing his children. They seemed almost back to normal, but a little subdued, which was to be expected. He thought maybe he'd talk to them over lunch rather than breakfast, so they could ease into the day.

Victoria had other ideas. "Are we in trouble?"

"No," Patrick assured her. "Your mother and I believe neither of you knew that cocaine was in the car. What we are wondering is: who put it there?"

She cocked her head. "I've only given rides to Sherilyn and Tyler this week. I don't think either of them is into drugs. Tyler's parents would kill her, and Sherilyn is all about being the first kid in her family to go to an Ivy League school."

Patrick reflected on what he knew of her two friends and had to agree. "Liam, who's been in the car with you this week?"

"Just the band. Oh, and Schuyler. She and Matt are going out. They only sat in back, though." He shrugged. "I don't think it was any of them. You hear things about the kids who're into stuff, but we don't hang out with them."

"Okay. But your car sits in the school lot all day. I'm guessing all the seniors know each other's cars."

"Yeah," Liam said, as Victoria said, "Pretty much."

"So it could have been anybody at your school, or any adult who could access the grounds without raising suspicion." He'd have to check with the school and see if Melinda Mason had visited this week.

"Or at the party Saturday," Liam added.

"Or the mall Sunday," Victoria said. "Oh, and I went to the saddle shop and the arena Monday."

Some of those locations would have security cameras, Patrick thought. "Good. That's helpful. I'll look into it. The police will look for the car that ran you off the road."

"You're retired," Victoria pointed out.

"That doesn't mean I've lost my skills. And I still know people who can help."

"Like Stan?" Liam guessed.

"Yes. I'll call him today. In the meantime, I want to talk to you both about what you can do to protect yourselves."

Victoria frowned. "What about the car?"

"It's been towed to a garage. The cops will look for paint or other clues about who hit you, and then we'll get an estimate on repairs." Patrick thought it was even odds the insurance company would decide to total it, but he wouldn't go into that now. "Meanwhile, I'll drive you where you need to go. If I can't, you can take my car and I'll drive the Citroen."

Liam asked, "Is Mom taking her Mustang to Washington?"

"I'm sure she will." He was less sure how that would happen, but maybe they'd drive it out over spring break.

Liam looked disappointed, and Patrick fought down a grin. He hadn't realized his son had designs on Teresa's car.

Victoria smirked. "Like Mom would let you drive it around. You'll have to find another way to impress Maria."

Patrick said, "The two of you are all but grounded anyway."

"What?" Victoria cried. "Why?"

"Because someone may be trying to frame you. If they know they've failed, they'll try something else. I'd rather they didn't." He paused to let that sink in. "So we are all going to pretend that your mom and I think one or both of you is doing something you shouldn't. We'll be keeping a close eye on you. And you both need to be keeping an eye out too. SacPD didn't arrest you, so there won't be any incriminating paperwork in the public domain. Anybody who seems to know more than they should is suspect, and I want you to tell me about them."

They both looked like they were thinking hard. "What should we say?" Liam asked.

"Nothing." Neither of them was a gifted liar, and he had zero desire to change that. "Say you don't want to talk about it."

Both looked dissatisfied. Patrick continued, "It's just as well we're all going to DC this weekend. But while we're here, we'll need to be on our guard. Whoever this is has chosen their timing well. They know we're distracted with your mom leaving, and they'll be counting on me not paying as much attention to you. They probably think you'll be a little resentful of her being gone and ready to act out and test the new boundaries."

"Do they think we're kids?" Victoria said scornfully.

Patrick smiled. "That's exactly what they think: that you're young and malleable. That they can manipulate you. As if I'd raise a couple of marks."

They both grinned. He felt a little ashamed, because by the standards he'd grown up with, they were marks. It had taken him a long time to understand that someone could be a good, honest, compassionate person and not be a fool. It had taken knowing and loving Teresa Lisbon to change his mind about the kind of person he wanted to be. And consequently, Victoria and Liam had been raised very differently than he'd intended to raise Charlotte.

Every single day of their lives, he'd been fine with that. Until today.

"You're both smart, smarter than most of the people around you. But even people who are less intelligent can be more cunning. Especially with time to plan. Do not assume that you can outwit whoever this is on your own. Your mom and I were targets of a conspiracy for years, and even we didn't always do things the way we should have. If it hadn't been for our team, we'd probably both have been dead before you were old enough to walk. Don't think there's any virtue in going it alone. Stick with your team, your family."

He thought how gratified Teresa would have been to hear that speech, not to mention Cho, Rigsby, and Grace. And Stan.

But parenting, he was learning, was about trying to help his kids avoid his mistakes. He had an uneasy feeling that would mean they'd come up with new ones he was ill equipped to advise on, but maybe that was just the way things worked. His own father had never thought to warn him about taunting a serial killer, after all.

At least that was one mistake his kids were well prepared to avoid.

Liam said, "So you think this is Visualize?"

"As far as I'm aware, they're the only ones with a motive," Patrick said. "Though if your mother were here, she'd point out it could also be someone one of us was responsible for catching. Probably me, because she hasn't been in the field in years, though she wouldn't point that out. Or it could be someone at school with a beef against you, which you may not even be aware of. We don't know. That's why we need to investigate."

"How?" Victoria asked.

"I'll look into who had access to your car. But you two can hopefully eliminate some suspects by investigating motive. Ask around, see if maybe this was a prank gone bad or revenge or some other thing by someone at school. If it was, the culprit will brag about it to his friends, and word will get around. See if your friends—the ones you trust—know anything."

Liam looked thoughtful. "Because it's no good pretending to be guilty when the real guilty person knows we're not."

"Exactly. You know you're innocent. The other person who knows for sure is the guilty party. Everybody else is just guessing. And the guilty person will probably be the one who starts the talk at school about what happened."

"Right," Victoria said. "But why did we stay home today, then? What if they're already starting to talk?"

Patrick smiled at her. "You stayed home today because you were pretty shaken up yesterday, and your mom and I were worried about you. Tomorrow will be soon enough to worry about rumors and who knows what."

She didn't look like she cared for that answer. "I need to go to practice this afternoon. And can I still compete next weekend?"

"Yes. I think even if we thought you were guilty, we wouldn't discourage you from that."

"Right. I'd have to be an idiot to get high and then go ride my horse on a jump course." She looked angry. "I'd never put her at risk like that!"

"I doubt Lady would let you." The horse had a mind of her own, Patrick knew, and was sensitive to Victoria's moods.

"Damn straight," Victoria muttered.

"I'll drive you," Patrick said. "Liam, what about your plans for the day?"

He shrugged. "I think I'll stay home. The guys won't expect me at practice since I wasn't at school."

"Okay. Just take it easy today," Patrick advised. "I'm going to invite Stan to dinner, so it would be nice if you managed to shower by then, but otherwise do what you'd like. Unstructured time is good for you." They didn't get much of it these days; even on school breaks, their other activities continued.

"Sure," Liam said.

"You have good instincts, Liam. But you don't need to save your sister. Your mom and I are here for that."

Victoria said, "And I'm perfectly capable of saving myself."

"Yes, you are," Patrick said. He loved that she had her mother's fierce, independent spirit. "But it's always good to let your family help you. And you should be grateful when they do. I am still grateful to the people who helped save me and your mom. And I remind them of my gratitude from time to time, so they know I'm there to help them in return if they need it."

Victoria nodded. "I know. I've heard you."

"And have you thanked your brother? He was trying to protect your future by putting his in danger," Patrick pointed out.

Victoria jumped up from her chair and threw her arms around her brother, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Liam. But don't do it again, okay?"

He pushed her away playfully, wiping at his cheek. "Ew! Don't worry, I won't." But he grinned at her, taking the sting out of his words.

Patrick was glad to see their bond intact. "You two are each other's best ally. Don't forget that. Anybody trying to get between you should be suspect."

They both gave him looks that said he was being ridiculous, not bothering to reply. Patrick chuckled and got up for a refill on his tea, and Victoria began clearing the table. "I have some essays to write for my scholarship applications," she said. "Might as well get them out of the way while I have time."

"We're going to be stuck on a plane most of the weekend," Liam said.

"Ugh. I can't work on a plane. It makes my head hurt."

"Drink more water," Patrick advised her.

Leaving them to their own devices, he called to Belle and went out for his morning walk. When he reached the bench by the pond, he pulled out his phone and called Moore.

"Jane! Calling to ask another favor?" Moore greeted him.

"Yes, but you know I always repay my debts."

"That's why I keep taking your calls," Moore chuckled. "What's up?"

"I wondered if you'd heard anything on the grapevine about the kids nearly getting arrested yesterday."

"No." Moore's voice was suddenly serious, and Jane heard him muffle the phone and say to someone else, "Go on, I'll be with you in a minute." Then he returned to the call. "What happened?"

Mindful of how ludicrously easy it was to eavesdrop on mobile phones, Patrick said only, "Someone ran them into a ditch on the way home from school. Cops found cocaine in the car."

"Shit," Moore said. He was silent for a second. "They okay?"

"Yes, just shaken up. The lead detective knew Teresa, so he let us take them home with no charges. But I'm concerned. You free for dinner?"

"I'll get free," Moore promised. "I might be on the late side, but I'll be there, don't you worry."

"Thanks. I'll have your favorites ready."

"Short ribs and garlic mashed potatoes? For that, I'd help you hide a body." Moore was trying for levity, but there was still tension in his voice.

"That won't be necessary. At least, not tonight. See you soon."

"Hang in there, Jane."

Moore hung up, and Patrick relaxed a little. The law enforcement grapevine was ruthlessly efficient; if Moore hadn't heard yet, it was doubtful rumors were making the rounds, which argued that no one with a badge was involved. Given Visualize's previous influence, it had seemed possible. Patrick was relieved to have an argument against the theory that SacPD might have planted the drugs while looking at the car; he didn't want to teach his children to distrust them.

Reaching down to pet Belle, who was lying near his feet, Patrick closed his eyes and basked in the sunshine breaking through the trees. But before he finished his deep breath, his phone rang. He answered it without opening his eyes. "Hello?"

"Jane," Grace's voice said. "Lisbon called me. I've got footage from the riding arena and the mall, but I can't access the school's systems."

He smiled. "You leave the school to me. Anything on the other?"

"Not yet. I'm running it through an analysis program though. What else can I do to help? Lisbon said they're both okay, but they have to be a little shaken up. Will you tell them I'm thinking about them?"

"Of course, Grace. And thanks for your help."

"Anytime. Is this just a weird blip or something bigger?"

"I don't know yet. But I think we have to assume the worst," he said.

"Don't worry, Jane. And call me if you think of a way I can help, okay?"

"You'll be the first. Thanks, Grace. I appreciate it."

"I'm happy to do it," she assured him before hanging up. The fierceness underneath her reassuring tone made him smile. Grace was every bit as much a mother bear as Teresa, and both women included the other's kids in their protective circle. Victoria and Liam had staunch defenders outside their immediate family, and Patrick was glad to be reminded of that.

He needed to take his own advice and trust his team. His children were too important to ignore any possible resource.

With that in mind, he dialed another number. "Madeleine, it's Patrick Jane. How are you?"

"Jane. Tired of retirement already?" Hightower greeted him.

"No. But I have a lot of time to cook, and I was wondering if you were free for dinner."

"I can't tonight; Mimi's bringing her new boyfriend for inspection. Tomorrow?"

"Sure. Unless I could bring you lunch today."

She hesitated. "I have a meeting at one, but I'm free before that. Is everything okay, Patrick?"

"I have something I want your advice on, that's all."

"Okay." She sounded intrigued. "See you around noon."

Patrick hung up and got to his feet. "Come on, Belle. I have a picnic to put together."

mmm

It was nostalgic going to Hightower's office in the state capitol building, and Patrick realized with a shock that she'd been in it for nearly nineteen years now. He'd once pegged her as ambitious, but after her career had been derailed by Red John, she seemed satisfied with ensuring the CBI was widely regarded as a top notch law enforcement agency.

"So when are you going to retire, Madeleine?" he asked, carrying his picnic basket into her office with a grin.

"When both my kids are married and I don't have to worry about background checks," she joked. "I didn't expect such a feast. You must need something other than advice."

"You still sweep your office yourself?" He began unpacking the food, setting two bottles of Perrier on her desk.

"Yes, at random times." She folded her arms. "I take it this isn't some cockamamie plan to keep Lisbon from moving to DC?"

"I want her to go," he replied. "And I'm going with her as soon as I can."

"Good. So what's wrong, then?"

He handed her a kale Caesar salad and a fork. "Someone ran the twins off the road yesterday. They're okay, but SacPD took them in because they found cocaine in the car?"

"Damn. Your kids should be smarter than that," she said, wincing in sympathy.

"They are. It was a setup."

"And you're sure about that."

"Of course I am." He took a bite of his salad. "The bread's homemade; try a slice."

"Okay. So it was a setup. Who? Why?"

"We were thinking it might be Visualize. I'm hoping you can tell me what they're up to these days."

Hightower frowned. "We keep a pretty good eye on them, but there's been nothing much to get excited about. After Stiles died they lost a lot of followers, and they sold off some of their businesses to raise money. Some of their foreign members spun off cults of their own. What's left is a low key group who keep to themselves. They still do a lot of rehab recruiting. Why do you suspect them, aside from old habit?"

"Victoria's new boyfriend's mother was a member before he was born."

"Ah." She took a bite, chewed, and asked, "And the father?"

"Unknown."

"You want my help looking into this kid? I'm sure you've already dug around some."

"We have, but only unofficially. His name's Brett Mason. It's his stepfather's name; he legally adopted him when he married his mother."

"Brett, hm?"

"Yeah." Patrick opened the container of fruit he'd brought.

"What does Lisbon think?"

"We agree it needs looked into. And we're looking at various angles."

"The FBI has far more resources than the CBI."

"Yes, but if someone's keeping tabs, they'll be focused on the FBI. We've been gone from the CBI a long time, so they won't be watching you."

"Unless they know you came here today."

"Too late for them to infiltrate you," Patrick said. He got up and drew the plastic bag out of the basket. "And I know I can rely on your discretion."

Hightower picked it up, looking inside. "You brought me an old dog toy?"

"That is the remains of a teddy bear Brett Mason gave Victoria. If he had something to do with the drugs in the car, I wondered if there might be some residue on it. I looked at it pretty thoroughly, but I was thinking bugs or cameras at the time."

Hightower frowned. "I'll have it tested. And I'll go through the Visualize files and see what I can turn up."

"I appreciate it." Patrick smiled, reaching into the basket again. "Which is why I brought brownies."

Hightower grinned. "You're welcome."

mmm

Teresa was late getting home, but she still arrived before Moore. "Have a good day?" he asked as she came into the kitchen and gave him a greeting kiss.

"Good enough. How are the kids?"

"Fine. Victoria got some practice in today and felt the better for it. Liam did some songwriting, I think. And I had lunch with Madeleine Hightower, who sends her love."

"Hightower? You think she can help?"

"I gave her the, um, corpse we examined the other night. She's going to test it and let us know."

"I could have done that if you wanted."

"No. If we're being watched, we need to be sneaky. We need to seem like we suspect the kids are into drugs, that we don't believe their story."

She grimaced. "Did you explain that to the kids?"

"Of course. I also gave them tips on what to look for."

Teresa sighed. "I never wanted this for them."

"Me either. But they're our kids; they can handle it. Questioning the motives of the people around them isn't a bad thing."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of teaching them your style of investigation," Teresa said, folding her arms.

"Well, since they lack badges and guns, we can't teach them yours."

"Yours would have gotten you arrested or dead if it weren't for my badge and gun," she snarked.

"Calm down. I'm not encouraging them to poke bigwigs or incite people to punch them," Patrick said. "Just to pay attention."

"Okay. I just wish they didn't have to worry about this." Teresa leaned against the counter. "I really want them to enjoy all their senior year stuff."

"We both do. And we'll do our best to make that happen." He kissed her cheek. "Stan's on his way."

"And what's his assignment?"

She'd had a bad day indeed if she was still snapping at him, he thought. "Would you like some wine? Or a snack?"

Her shoulders dropped. "Yeah. I didn't get lunch."

That explained it. Patrick pulled some crackers and cheese out and poured her a glass of Merlot. "Big case?"

"Department audit." She took a sip of the wine.

"Ah. No wonder you look like you need a massage."

"Can I have one?" She looked at him hopefully.

"Of course, my dear. As soon as Stan leaves."

"I love you," she said.

Patrick grinned. "As you should."

His phone rang, and he picked it up. "Madeleine, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Need me to hypnotize the boyfriend?"

"No, I actually like this one," she said. "I rushed the test you asked for. It came up positive."

"For residue?"

"Yes. A lot of it, actually. Like someone used it for storage."

Patrick nodded to Teresa. "Thanks, Madeleine. We owe you one."

"You let me know if your kids need help," she ordered him.

"We will. Good night."

"Tell them all hello for me," she said, then hung up.

Patrick turned to Teresa, who was waiting impatiently. "The bear had cocaine residue."

"Damn it," she sighed. "So we should talk to Brett."

"No. Let's have Stan do it. It'll be better if we stay behind the scenes. Let everyone believe we're calling in help to deal with a drug problem in our home."

He could tell she didn't like it, but she didn't have a solid argument against it. "I don't like running a con on our family."

"Not on. With. We're running a con with our family."

"I don't know if that's better," she grumbled.

"It is, I promise you," he replied. He didn't like the unhappiness on her face. "Want some chocolate?"

"Stop managing me, Patrick."

"Not managing. Loving. Caring for." He sighed a little. "While I can."

She looked at him with affectionate exasperation, then put her arms around him. "Smooth talker."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Thanks for your patience with the pace of this story, both the plot and the posting. I just can't seem to resist taking time off to write early season tags as they occur to me. I appreciate you sticking with me!

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

Teresa was relieved when Patrick's phone rang and Moore reported that he'd be late and they should eat without him, but save him a to-go bag. She was starving, and the short ribs smelled heavenly.

Victoria and Liam seemed their normal selves, though perhaps less talkative than usual. But then, she couldn't blame them for being more interested in eating the heavenly meal than chatting.

When they'd finished, Liam cleared the table while Patrick packed up a meal for Moore. Teresa went into the family room to relax, and Victoria followed her.

"If we're sort of but not really grounded, will you still teach us to shoot?"

Teresa thought about it. "We can ask Cho if there's a range we can use in DC. I don't think going to the one here would work with your father's plan."

"Are you taking your gun to DC?"

"It's a pain to fly with it, but yes," Teresa replied. "You won't be firing my service weapon, though. We'll rent you a gun." She considered her daughter carefully. "You have a long road ahead of you before I let you carry one around, you know. Don't be thinking you can solve whatever's going on that way."

"Just covering my bases," Victoria replied.

She sounded so much like her father that Teresa had to smile. "Uh huh. How's your head, sweetie?"

"Fine. It's not going to leave a scar, right?"

"I doubt it."

"Did the police find who hit us?"

"Not yet." Teresa looked up as Patrick and Liam came in. "They've narrowed down the make and color, but they're still working on it."

Patrick sat down on the couch beside Teresa. "When Stan gets here, we'll go over what we know so far."

She shot him a look. "We will?"

"Of course. They have a right to know, since it involves them," he replied.

Teresa didn't like it, but she knew he was right. They needed to keep the kids up to date—to a point. They weren't adults yet, much less law enforcement. They needed to be protected, not put to work.

But from their eager expressions, she could tell that they wouldn't agree with her. She just hoped Patrick would be reasonable.

She hadn't bothered to take possession of the TV remote, so her fate was sealed. She was doomed to sit through yet another nature show while her husband and children competed to see who correctly predicted which hapless animal the predator would take down. It had started out as a way for him to teach them to observe body language and notice seemingly unimportant details, but now it was almost a tradition.

The doorbell was a welcome interruption, and she went to answer it. "Stan, welcome," she said. "Come in. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, I gave in and grabbed a burger. I'll eat my short ribs when I can savor them," he smiled. "Congratulations on the new job, Lisbon. You deserve it."

"Thanks." She closed the door behind him. "We're all in the family room. You're just in time to save me from Death on the Savannah."

Moore chuckled. "I'm surprised Jane hasn't dragged you out on safari."

"Not for lack of trying." She shook her head with a smile as she led him into the family room.

"Hey," Moore greeted the twins. "I hear you guys had some excitement yesterday."

"Yeah," Liam said.

Patrick got to his feet. "Stan, thanks for coming."

"Anytime. Well, anytime there's food involved." Moore grinned.

"Have a seat," Patrick invited him, gesturing to the love seat at a right angle to the couch.

Moore glanced quickly at the twins as he sat. Patrick said, "Liam, turn off the TV, please."

"Sure."

Teresa frowned a little. She wished she'd made Patrick tell her his plan before he got the kids involved.

Patrick said, "It's still early days, so we're waiting on SacPD to analyze any evidence on the car. Grace is working on video from some of the places the car was parked beforehand. When I take the kids to school tomorrow, I'll get their security footage."

Teresa was amused at the twins' dismay when they realized they were going to be taken to school as if they were little children.

"For my other avenue of investigation, I enlisted Madeleine Hightower at the CBI. Anyone watching us wouldn't expect us to use them when we have easy access to the FBI's resources."

Moore nodded. "Classic Jane."

"Thank you. I asked her to find out what might be going on in Visualize these days. And I gave her a piece of evidence to analyze."

Liam frowned. "What evidence?"

Teresa bit her lip. This was not going to be pretty.

Patrick said, "If someone is trying to make it look like one of you is using drugs, then the car won't be the only place we'll find evidence of it. So we took a look at the most recent gift to come into the house, and sure enough, there were traces of cocaine on it."

"Dad. You didn't." Victoria said, her tone ominous as she folded her arms.

"I did. And before you misdirect your anger at me, you should ask your boyfriend what he was thinking giving you a teddy bear that at one time swallowed a bunch of cocaine," Patrick replied sharply.

She shot him a glare, then frowned in confusion. "You put it back on my nightstand with coke in it?"

"Of course not," Patrick replied. "Your mother and I sacrificed our date night driving around town looking for a replacement. Separately, I might add."

Liam and Moore both looked amused, but Victoria was outraged. "You lied to me!"

"Certainly. There was no reason to upset you if the bear was clean."

Having frequently been on the receiving end of Patrick's ability to make stunning statements as casually as other people talked about the weather, Teresa could only sympathize as her daughter sputtered. Finally Victoria managed, "What else have you lied about?"

Patrick smiled. "Well, let's see. The Easter Bunny. The tooth fairy. Santa, though I mostly blame your mother for that one."

Victoria scowled. "You expect me to tell you the truth when you're not honest with me?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because when I lie to you, I judge it is in your best interest."

"Then I should be able to lie to you when I judge it is in your best interest," she retorted.

"When you've lived as long as I have and possess the wisdom of long experience, then you may feel free to do so," Patrick said, maintaining his calm. "Note that I am treating you like the adult you claim to be by assuming you will accept that as a reasonable answer."

Victoria sat back down with what her father would have called a flounce, much to Teresa's relief.

Liam said, "So the coke in the car was definitely a plant, then."

"Not definitely," Teresa corrected. "It's possible, but unlikely, the traces were from a smuggling operation before the bear was put out for sale. But highly likely, and we're proceeding based on the assumption that it's true."

"So," Moore said, "the questions are who and why?"

"Not Brett," Victoria said angrily.

"If we figure out one, we'll know the other," Patrick said. "Liam's theory that Visualize might be attempting to land one of you in rehab where they have connections is worth pursuing. However, this might also be aimed at Teresa."

"Me?" she frowned. "Why? Trying to compromise me?"

"Possibly."

Moore nodded. "You wouldn't be the first FBI agent who got into trouble trying to protect her kid. And if you did anything questionable, then you're vulnerable to blackmail."

"I didn't," she assured him. "But I see your point. That's how Red John's network in law enforcement operated, back in the day."

"Exactly," Patrick said. "Except that this feels tentative, like someone who's trying something out. Not quite committed. If we were the target of one of his disciples, someone who learned from him, there would be big trouble we'd have to be very smart to wriggle out of. Not this petty stuff."

Teresa could only be profoundly grateful they weren't facing anything more effective. One deadly conspiracy was enough for a lifetime.

"So," Patrick said, turning to Moore, "I doubt this is rooted in the FBI. An agent would be more effective."

"I imagine so," Moore said slowly.

"And since Teresa will be leaving shortly, anyone aiming at her has very little time to act. So keep an ear out for any mention of her."

Moore nodded. "Of course. But—"

"And Teresa will tell you if anyone seems off or angry with her for any reason."

"Of course," Teresa said. "But if someone were angry with me, I doubt they'd take it out on my children."

"Unless they're a psychopath," Patrick pointed out.

She stifled a sigh. Red John would forever influence Patrick's thinking when it came to protecting his family. No threat was too incredible to be considered and prepared for.

"So, Stan, you'll need to look into anyone currently in the FBI who was implicated but not prosecuted for involvement with Red John."

"Thank you, Jane. Whatever would I do without you to tell me how to investigate things? It's not as if I've ever closed a case without you. Oh, wait, yes I have. For years now," Moore said.

"No need to be sarcastic, Stan. The last time my family faced a threat you were very helpful, but you didn't direct the investigation. Don't expect me to leave my family's safety in anyone else's hands."

Teresa exchanged glances with Moore, hoping he wouldn't take it personally. He reassured her with a shrug.

"Now," Patrick said, turning to the twins, "you two be on the lookout for anyone behaving differently. Don't confront them; don't even let them see you notice. But tell me who they are as soon as you can, and we'll look into it."

They nodded.

"Meanwhile we'll get started tracing any Visualize connections," Patrick said. "Once we've compiled a list of suspects, we'll decide how to approach them."

"You mean you will," Moore said, but his tone was good natured.

Jane ignored him, clapping his hands together. "So, now that we have our business out of the way, who wants dessert?"

mmm

On Friday morning, Teresa received a call from an unknown number. Frowning, she answered, "Teresa Lisbon."

"Hello Mrs. J—uh, Ms. Lisbon. It's Melinda Mason. Brett's mother?"

"Of course. What can I do for you?" Teresa had a ton of work to finish before Patrick picked her up to go to the airport at seven, and this was the last thing she needed. But she forced herself to be polite.

"I was hoping we could meet for lunch. I know it's short notice and terribly inconvenient, but I'm afraid I need to speak to you urgently."

"Is everything okay?" She told herself firmly that the school or Patrick would call if one of the kids was hurt.

"Oh...yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. I just...need to talk to you. Please."

The desperation in Melinda's voice cut through Teresa's annoyance. "Okay. Um, I can do...12:30. But I have to be back by 1:45."

"I won't waste your time. Is there somewhere near your office you'd like to meet?"

"Houlihan's." The sports bar would be full of agents at that time of day, which would hopefully keep Patrick's head from exploding when he heard about this.

"On third? Okay. See you there at 12:30. And thank you."

"See you there." Teresa hung up and frowned, then dialed Moore. "Melinda Mason just asked me to lunch."

"Interesting. Need backup?"

"No, I got this. Just wondering if you knew what might be up."

"Well, Visualize knows we're poking around. I talked to Hightower yesterday, and she sent a pair of agents over to rattle the cage."

"Did they find anything?"

"No. You know how they are—won't say hello if you don't have a warrant. I think she was just trying to make them nervous. For my part, I'd like to know where Jason Cooper is."

"Stiles' right hand man? Did he take over?"

"No. Not charismatic enough. More of an administrator, I guess. He's still powerful, but behind the scenes. A guy named James Kerxton is the new guru. Comes across as earnest and ineffective. More a guppy than a shark."

"Could just be a really smart shark," she pointed out. "I'll let you know if I get anything useful from Melinda."

"Good luck," he replied before hanging up.

Teresa glanced at her computer. If she hurried, she could get the budget memo drafted before her 11 o'clock meeting,

mmm

Houlihan's did a brisk carry out business at lunch, but there were always groups of FBI agents looking for a place to relax and catch up, or have an informal meeting. There was no way anyone would be able to ambush or abduct her here, Teresa thought as she walked in and smiled at a group she knew near the door.

She hated having to be so suspicious, but when it came to Visualize, there was no way she was taking chances. She wasn't going to put her family in danger, and she wasn't going to give anyone a chance to terrorize Patrick ever again.

She'd arrived early so she could choose the table and be on the lookout for anything suspicious, but as she looked around, Melinda waved to her from a corner booth. Teresa summoned a smile and joined her.

"I was worried about parking, so I was ridiculously early," Melinda said. Her soda was mostly gone, lending credence to her story.

Teresa looked closely at her as she slid into the booth. She seemed nervous, but she wasn't looking around, so it was probably about the conversation she wanted to have rather than a trap. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Mason?"

"Oh, Melinda, please. Can we order first? I'm starved." She beckoned to the waiter and placed her order.

Teresa asked for her usual and a cup of tea. It would calm her and help her think like Patrick, a trick she'd used over the years when she needed to be creative or pay extra attention. "So, Melinda. Why am I here?"

"I...I need to come clean with you. I haven't done anything wrong," she added quickly. "But...there are some things you're going to find out, and I'd rather you hear them from me."

"Is this about Visualize?"

"So you know. I hoped you didn't yet." Melinda let out a shaky sigh and took a sip of her soda. "I know...I know you have reason to be suspicious of anyone connected to them. Good reason. But I haven't had anything to do with anyone in the church for years. Since Brett was little."

"Why did you leave?" Teresa asked. "I know that's not easy to do."

"It is when Brother Stiles decides you should." She bit her lip. "It was an honor to be noticed by him, you know. I was raised to think of him almost as a supernatural being. Which of course he wasn't. But I was young and foolish, and I believed I was doing something good. Noble, even." Melinda scrunched her nose in disgust. "It wasn't until after I discovered I was pregnant that he told me his plan."

"Was this before or after I was kidnapped and imprisoned in a Visualize mental hospital?" Teresa couldn't keep the edge out of her tone.

"Before. And I didn't know anything about that at the time. I left before that happened. Brother Stiles sent me out east, away from anyone connected to the church. I think he was worried Red John would find out about the baby and kill me."

"That was why he sent you away? To protect the baby?"

"Yes. At least partly. He wanted an heir, but he didn't want him to be raised like a prince. He thought it would be better if he was raised outside the church and then came to enlightenment as an adult. He made sure I had money to live on, that kind of thing. But I was so homesick. After I heard Red John was dead, I came home. Brother Stiles still didn't want me back in the church, but at least I could see my parents."

"And you had a baby boy named for his father."

"Yes. But Brett never knew him. Brother Stiles came to see him only once, when I came home from the hospital. Then he never came again. And he died when Brett was little."

"I know. My husband went to the funeral." She'd been happy to stay home with the twins that day, but Patrick had always had a weird fondness for the old cult leader.

"I didn't. I was married by then and pregnant with my third child, and I didn't want to be associated with the church anymore. I didn't want my husband to think I wanted to go back or anything."

"Does he know who Brett's biological father is?"

"I think he guessed, but he never asked, and I never told him." Melinda paused. "I love my son. He's a good boy. And I don't want him to suffer because of who his father was. He's crazy about your daughter. And who could blame him? She's smart and pretty, and it's obvious she's going to make something of herself."

"I'm not going to forbid her to see him," Teresa replied. "I've read Romeo and Juliet."

Melinda beamed at her. "Oh, thank you! I don't know how I'd face him if I ruined his first love."

"Does Brett know who his father is?"

"Yes. I told him over Christmas break. I always intended to do it on his eighteenth birthday, but he overheard my in-laws talking and asked me flat out if Todd was his father."

"That must have been tough," Teresa said, sipping her tea.

"Yeah, it was. But he took it really well. I know he's done some research online on Brother Stiles, since I couldn't answer all his questions. But I think that's normal for a boy who never knew his biological father."

"I'm sure." Teresa was grateful when their food arrived and she could busy herself with eating. So Brett had discovered he was born to be the heir of the leader of a rich worldwide cult, and he'd decided to date the girl Red John had wanted for his heir. What was going on in his head? And had it been his idea, or had he talked to someone from Visualize?

To find out, they were going to need to talk to Brett. That was one conversation she was happy to leave to Patrick.

Except Melinda wasn't the only one in her family connected to the cult. "Do your parents still live here?"

"Hm? Oh, no, my parents left the church about ten years ago and then retired to the San Diego area. Are you from here, Teresa?"

"No, Chicago. Two of my brothers still live there; the other's in Oklahoma City."

"And what about your husband? Is his family local?"

"Both his parents are dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry. So your kids have no grandparents? That's so sad."

"Yes, though they had honorary grandparents, one of my former bosses and his wife." Teresa suppressed a sigh as she thought how much she wished Minelli was still alive to turn to for advice. "We all make families in our own way. How did you and your husband meet?"

"He lived in the same neighborhood as my parents. I was out with Brett in the stroller and Todd was walking his dog, Domino." She smiled. "It was like fate."

Teresa wondered if that meeting had really been by chance. Stiles had still been alive at that point, after all. She wouldn't put it past the old puppet master to choose his son's stepfather.

"How did you and Patrick meet?"

Teresa blinked at her. She knew who they were, so how could she not know?

"I mean," Melinda added hastily, "I know it was the Red John case. Everybody knows that. But did you know he was the one when you met?"

"No." Teresa couldn't help a chuckle. "Far from it. Though we did become friends pretty quickly after we started working together." She knew she needed to let Melinda ask some questions to avoid this feeling like an interrogation, but she wasn't going to talk about her marriage. That was private. And anyway, there was something she needed to address. "Melinda, I appreciate your honesty. So I'm going to be honest with you in return. Victoria is not the paragon you seem to think she is. I expect you've heard of her car accident?"

"No, Brett didn't mention it. I hope she wasn't hurt." Melinda frowned.

"She and Liam were both fine. But the police found cocaine in the car."

"Oh." Melinda looked genuinely shocked. "I'm...I'm sorry to hear that."

"They both claim it wasn't theirs, but..." Teresa trailed off with a shrug. Patrick would have done this much better and without the guilty conscience, but she would give it a try, despite the pang she felt at speaking ill of her children.

"What are you going to do?"

"Keep a close eye on them. I have to go to DC on business tonight, and I'm taking them with me. They're also more or less grounded for the moment."

"I'm sure whoever's it was, they've learned their lesson," Melinda offered.

Teresa grumbled, "They will when I get done with them."

Her phone buzzed just then, and she murmured, "Excuse me," as she glanced at it. It was a text from Patrick, asking if she had gotten anything to eat, but she seized on it as her escape. "I'm so sorry. I need to get back to work."

"Of course. I understand," Melinda assured her. "I'll get the bill."

"Oh, no, thank you, I couldn't," Teresa said, a little surprised. She put the right amount of cash on the table as she stood. "I'm glad we had a chance to talk."

"Oh, me too. Thank you for taking the time to meet me. I'll see you around school, or the riding ring." Melinda smiled up at her. "Take care."

"You too," Teresa replied as she hurried off.

When she was safely back in the office, she texted Patrick to inform him that she'd had lunch and not to worry so much. He replied that he'd see her at seven and was fully prepared to forcibly remove her from her desk if necessary.

She decided to get back to work and not tempt him.

mmm

Teresa was downstairs at 6:57, and Patrick's car was already in the public parking lot waiting. But it was Victoria behind the wheel, with Liam sitting in the passenger seat. Patrick was obviously making sure they got over any lingering fear from the accident.

She slid into the back seat to find him waiting for her with his best grin. "What are you so happy about?" she asked as she put her seatbelt on.

"Why shouldn't I be happy? We're all together, setting off on a new adventure," he replied.

"An adventure that means we're sleeping on a plane—two, actually—instead of in our nice comfy beds," she pretended to grumble.

"That's part of what makes it an adventure," he chuckled, leaning over to kiss her. "Besides, it's not like we're in coach. Although I couldn't get us a plane with those nice lie-flat seats like we had on the trip to Italy."

"As long as I can sleep on your shoulder, I'm good," she said.

"So," he said after Victoria had turned out of the parking lot and onto the road, "who did you have lunch with?"

"Who says I had lunch with anyone?"

Patrick gave her a look. "You aren't starving, and there's a little smear on your collar. Reuben sandwich from Houlihan's, yes? To brave the Friday crowd, you must have had someone else along."

She really should have expected that, she realized. She'd always intended to tell him, of course, but she hadn't intended for the kids to be present. Though she supposed there was no harm in them knowing. "Brett's mother called. She heard we were looking into Visualize and wanted to assure me she doesn't have anything to do with them anymore."

"So you met her at Houlihan's. Nice choice."

She could tell from his tone that he appreciated the security of the choice as well as the culinary aspect. "She told me who Brett's biological father is."

"Did she? Is it anyone we know?"

Teresa was aware that both kids were listening intently in the front seat. "Yes, as a matter of fact. You went to his funeral."

"Ah."

"Who?" Victoria demanded.

"I'm not sure I should say," Teresa said.

"Mo-om."

Patrick said, "Liam? Any guesses?"

"Stiles?"

"Got it in one," Patrick said smugly.

"The old guy? Ew." Victoria scrunched her nose. "Still, he can't help who his father was."

"None of us can," Patrick agreed. "But does he know he's the rightful heir to Visualize?"

"As of Christmas break," Teresa confirmed.

"Hm." Patrick tapped his lips with a finger.

"Rightful heir?" Victoria scoffed. "To a cult? You've met Brett. He's no guru."

"No," Patrick said, "but Visualize was never just about the touchy freely stuff. It's also a business empire of sorts."

Liam said, "He's not a business genius either."

"Maybe not, but he might make a good figurehead," Patrick mused. "He's well spoken, reasonably good looking, and most importantly, young and malleable. And he's managed to attract a Jane."

"Why does that matter?" Victoria asked.

"Because you have the combination of genes Red John wanted for his protege. And anyone who cares about Brett's parentage will find the idea of that combination compelling."

Victoria scrunched up her nose again, glancing at her father in the rear view mirror. "That's crazy."

Patrick nodded. "But Visualize specializes in crazy."

"Well, they can go find somebody else for their craziness," Victoria said firmly.

"Left up here," Teresa interjected as they approached the turn for the airport.

"I know," Victoria replied, slowing.

"You remembered my suitcase, right?" Teresa asked Patrick.

"No," he said. "I figured we'd buy you all new clothes while we're signing a lease and picking out furniture."

"Ha, ha."

"I did take the liberty of jazzing up some of your wardrobe choices," he grinned.

From the glint in his eye, she suspected he'd focused on her underwear and/or nightwear. She was a little surprised he was so enthusiastic about a trip that was all about their impending separation, but he was probably glossing over that and focusing on their new life together afterward. She hoped it would live up to his expectations, but she worried her new job would require longer hours than her current one.

Patrick reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and raising it to his lips. "Stop worrying," he told her softly. "Just sit back and enjoy the trip."

She returned his loving smile, squeezing his fingers. Even after all the years of him urging her to live in the moment, it didn't come easily to her. But as always, she would try. "Okay."

"Good." Patrick turned his attention to directing Victoria to the correct parking lot, but he looked happy.

She loved making him happy. She resolved that, no matter how busy she got, she would always take the time to make him smile. It might be harder to do long distance, but she would just have to find a way.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Sorry for my long absence! I was out of town last weekend for my godson's confirmation, and before that adjusting to a promotion that increased sharply the time I spend in meetings, leaving little time for actual work. But I think I have that under control now, so I'll try not to vanish again!

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Patrick thoroughly enjoyed the flights. He had his wife safely beside him, asleep on his shoulder, and his children across the aisle, Liam with his nose in a book and Victoria playing on her tablet until they too fell asleep.

They landed on time at Reagan National and took a car service to the hotel, where they settled into their suite and got showers and fresh clothes. After a hearty room service breakfast, they set off for their meeting with the condo agent.

Teresa was delighted with the space, as he'd known she would be. It was more modern than their former place in Sacramento, all natural light and subtle finishes, but it had the same urban, sophisticated character. What he hadn't expected was for Liam to love it immediately. While the rest of them walked around talking about furniture, his son found the bedroom with the best light, produced a sketchbook and pencil from his backpack, and began drawing the view from the window.

Well, that was one potential problem averted, Patrick reflected. He and Teresa signed the lease on the bar separating the spacious kitchen from the living room.

He'd have to sort out some kitchen things to send with her, he realized, without disabling his ability to cook the kids' favorite meals at the farm. Making two households wouldn't be easy.

Teresa was beaming, excited to have a beautiful place to live instead of a hotel room. While Victoria took pictures with her phone and the agent reviewed the sheaf of paperwork, Patrick took Teresa by the hand and pulled her into the living room, in front of the floor to ceiling window with its view of the city. "Welcome home," he whispered.

She kissed him deeply, conveying her happiness. "Welcome home," she whispered back with a glowing smile.

Patrick dismissed his unease at the thought that he would only share it with her part time at first and focused on his excitement at the thought of a new life with new challenges and joys. It would be the perfect antidote to his anxiety over Victoria going to college.

"Well, let's explore the neighborhood," he suggested. "Maybe we'll find a new favorite place for lunch."

She chuckled. "If you can tear Liam away from his view."

"A boy must eat," Patrick replied, heading to the room where his son was sitting on the floor, putting the finishing touches on his drawing with short, deft strokes of his pencil. "Liam? Time to go."

"One minute," Liam said absently.

In the living room, Teresa's phone rang, echoing off the bare walls. "Hi, Cho," they heard her say.

"Liam, now. We're meeting Cho for lunch," Patrick said.

"I just need a minute." He focused even harder on his work.

Patrick reflected that his son definitely had the Lisbon stubbornness. It would likely be faster just to let him finish instead of arguing. "Fine. I'll text you the address and you can join us when you're done."

Then he left the room. When Liam was little, the threat of being left had brought quick compliance; as a teenager, it had less effect. But Patrick knew he didn't need to bluff. Liam was perfectly capable of making his own way through the city if he had to. No matter how anxious it might make his father.

Teresa was just hanging up her phone. "Cho's saving us a table at a place down the street," she said.

"Great. Liam will meet us there. So we'll be on our way, unless you need anything further, Susan?" He smiled at the leasing agent.

"No, you're all set! You can move in whenever you're ready." She handed the keys to Teresa. "Let me know if you have any questions about the rules. You have to use the freight elevator to move large furniture, and only during the daytime. Large trucks are not allowed to idle in the alley. If you're having decorators come in, be sure to leave their names and your cell number at the front desk."

"That won't be necessary," Teresa said. "Thanks for everything."

"It was my pleasure. I'll walk you out."

Patrick took one of the sets of keys from Teresa and went back to the bedroom. "Heads up," he called as he tossed them to Liam. "Lock up when you leave."

"Got it," Liam replied, going back to his drawing.

mmm

Cho was waiting at what looked to be an old sports bar, with beautifully carved wood trim and a dim interior that made a good background for the screens around the walls showing various games. He stood as they approached, smiling broadly as he spotted Victoria. "Look at you," Cho said as she hugged him. "All grown up."

"Not quite," Patrick couldn't help correcting.

Victoria rolled her eyes at her father. "It's great to see you, Uncle Cho. You didn't bring your girlfriend? I can't wait to meet her."

"She couldn't get away from work," he replied. "But she'll try to join us later at the range."

"Where the deer and the antelope play?" Patrick quipped as they all sat down.

Teresa looked a little guilty. "Where the FBI agents and their soon to be independent children learn gun safety," she replied. "Just for a couple hours. You can amuse yourself that long without getting into trouble, right?"

"Of course. I may go join the protesters at the White House, have some fun," he grinned. Though he wasn't a fan of guns, he knew his wife was. And he didn't object to her teaching their children how to safely handle them, though he hoped they never needed to.

"Don't call me for bail money," she replied.

"Look for my cameo on the evening news." He winked at her.

Cho half suppressed a grin. "You'll be in the cabinet by supper, right?"

"I'm retired," Patrick assured him. He caught sight of Liam in the doorway and waved him over, and Cho got up for a hug.

After the greetings were over and they ordered their meal, Cho said, "So. I heard you kids had a little trouble."

The twins looked surprised, so Cho added, "I still talk to Rigsby at least once a week. You really think it's Visualize?"

"Seems so," Patrick said.

Victoria scowled. "Idiots. When we get home, I'll tell Brett he shouldn't have anything to do with them."

Liam said, "Like he's gonna take your orders."

"He will if he knows what's good for him."

"You'd do better to act interested, see how much he knows," Liam advised. "See if he thinks genetics are destiny."

Cho glanced at Lisbon. "Like father, like son, huh?"

"Not in this case," Patrick said. "I don't want my daughter anywhere near Visualize. Or anyone connected to them."

Victoria said, "You don't get to pick who I hang out with."

"No," he replied. "You're old enough to decide that for yourself. And to know that sometimes people have more than one motive for hanging around you."

"Not Brett. You don't know him," she insisted.

"I'd like to," Cho said. "Tell me all about him."

Patrick exchanged glances with Teresa, who smirked a little. It occurred to him that perhaps the best way to deal with Brett Mason was to introduce him to Kimball Cho.

As Victoria talked, Liam handed his father the keys. "So you like the place, huh?" Patrick said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Going to learn to shoot today?"

Liam shrugged. "Can't hurt."

"No, it can't. Have fun. Cho's almost as good a shot as your mom."

"You're not coming?"

"Me? No. I have no use for guns." At least not anymore, he added to himself.

"What are you going to do? I want to go to the Smithsonian art museum later if we have time."

"I'd like that. I'll take a look around some of the others until you join me, then."

Liam smiled. "Cool."

Patrick returned the smile. He looked forward to having a companion to explore art with; he and Liam had haunted the Sacramento museum until they'd practically memorized every piece in it. Washington offered a brand new banquet, but Teresa's tolerance for staring at paintings and sculpture was about as limited as his own ability to watch football.

"You can do better," Cho said to Victoria.

Teresa choked on her diet soda, and Liam grinned. Victoria was stunned, but only for a moment. "What makes you say that?"

Patrick couldn't blame her for being surprised, since she'd been singing her boyfriend's praises. Cho answered with his usual honesty. "He sounds like a normal kid. You're not. You should find somebody extraordinary."

From anybody else, it would have sounded like flattery. But Patrick knew Cho was, as usual, dead serious.

Victoria was taken aback, but she recovered quickly. "Maybe I'm what he needs to become extraordinary," she said.

"Maybe," Cho said.

Liam couldn't resist saying, "Or maybe he's what you need to become ordinary."

Victoria made a face at him. "Ha, ha."

Patrick said, "Don't knock it. Your mom made me want to be a regular person."

"But not ordinary," Teresa smiled.

"True," he said. "But then, neither are you."

Her eyes lit at the compliment, and they held each other's gaze until Cho said, "My point is, you want to pick the people in your life carefully. Pick the ones who make you want to be better than you are. They're the ones who will help you be successful. I wouldn't be where I am if not for your mom."

"That's not true," Teresa protested.

"Yes, it is. You remember the first day we worked together?"

"Sure."

"I almost quit."

"Really? Why?"

Cho chuckled. "Rigsby."

Patrick and Teresa chuckled too. Cho continued, "But then I saw the way you worked. I knew I had to stay. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you."

Teresa was obviously touched. "Thank you, Kimball. But I can only take a little of the credit. The rest is yours, for your hard work and determination."

"Of course," he agreed. "But having the right people along the way makes a big difference. I was lucky. But I also knew the people who'd be good for me when I met them." He paused. "I wasn't always so smart, though. I hung around the wrong people when I was young. Did your folks ever tell you I was in a gang?"

"No way," Victoria said.

"Yes, way. Did some time in juvie, even. Came to my senses and joined the Army before I ended up dead or in prison." He looked at Victoria and Liam. "So I know all about friends leading you down bad roads."

Liam said, "The coke wasn't ours, Uncle Cho."

"But it belonged to someone with access to your car." Cho held up a hand to forestall any more protests. "Look. All I'm saying is, watch each other's backs. And you have plenty of help if you need it. Including me."

The waiter brought their food as he finished speaking, effectively finishing the conversation. But Patrick made a mental note to do something nice for his old friend soon.

mmm

After they finished eating, Patrick bid them all farewell and headed downtown, where he spent a pleasant few hours at the Renwick Gallery, then strolled past the White House and followed Pennsylvania Avenue until he came to a promising French bakery. Feeling a little peckish, he stopped in for a fruit tartlet and a pot of tea, finding a comfortable upholstered chair at a small corner table to settle in and people watch. He could get used to this, he thought happily.

His phone buzzed, and he looked down to see a text from Liam that he was done at the range and on his way downtown. Patrick texted back his current location, content to wait.

A few minutes later, he got a text from Teresa that Victoria had decided to go shopping for her prom dress at some of the boutiques in town, and Cho had offered his services as fashion consultant. Patrick was torn between amusement and hurt at not being involved in this important purchase until his daughter sent him a winking emoji and a promise not to buy anything until she had his opinion. He smiled down at the phone and reached for his teacup.

"Patrick Jane," a voice said, making him look up quickly. "I should have known I'd find you here."

"Jason Cooper," Patrick said, summoning a smile to hide his shock. "What a delightful surprise. Please have a seat."

"Thank you." Cooper sat across the table, setting his order sign in front of him. "I trust you're enjoying your stay?"

"I am," Patrick confirmed. "And you? I confess I thought you were out of the country."

"I was. This is merely a stopover on my way back to California."

"Consulting with your lobbyists? A necessary evil, I imagine."

"For many organizations. But my primary purpose was to meet with you discreetly. This seemed an ideal opportunity." Cooper smiled. "I'm surprised to find you alone, though."

"Only for a little while. We have a lot to do. But I'm glad to have the chance for a chat." Patrick sipped his tea, quickly formulating a strategy. He decided to make Cooper go first, curious about why he'd sought him out.

"I'm relieved to hear it. It's been a long time since our paths crossed, and that was not a pleasant experience for any of us."

"Agreed."

"And for our part, we'd prefer to avoid another incident."

Patrick frowned as he tried to apply the word "incident" to his wife's kidnapping. "Obviously we'd prefer to continue our no-contact policy."

"And yet your associates are harassing members of the church." Cooper held up a hand. "Not entirely without cause, I'll grant."

"Big of you."

Cooper grimaced at the edge in Patrick's tone. "I'd like to clear the air and avoid misunderstandings. I know you've discovered Melinda Mason's connection to our church."

"Yes. And the fact that she's encouraging her son to date my daughter concerns me, which I'm sure you understand." Patrick paused as his tartlet and Cooper's coffee arrived, wondering how much his unexpected companion was prepared to reveal.

When they were alone again, Cooper sipped his coffee and sighed. "As it should. Brother Stiles was a wise man, but he was not infallible. One of his...less inspired...ideas was to father an heir who would not be raised within the church, to avoid being spoiled, I suppose. That child is Brett Mason."

Patrick nodded.

"But you already knew that, I see."

"Yes. I appreciate your honesty. Did you know about the plan from the beginning?"

"No. It was only after the Red John mess that I realized. Brother Stiles came to regret his actions, especially after Red John twisted his own plan into the plot involving you."

Patrick took another sip to hide his face. He hadn't made that connection, though he should have. "Who else knows?"

"Everyone in the inner circle at the time. Brother Stiles revealed it so he could point out the flaw in his thinking. He wanted everyone to know that our genes do not foretell our destiny, and that we can make ourselves into better people no matter our parentage."

"And everyone agreed?"

"I think so, at least at the time. Brother Kerxton certainly does. He is Brother Stiles' true heir in every way that matters."

"Reassuring." Patrick paused. "I know Brett recently learned his birth father's identity. What I'd like to know is whether he's in contact with anyone in Visualize."

"Not officially. But he's not under surveillance, so I can't say for sure."

"Can you find out?"

"I can try. I'll also make sure everyone remembers that you and your family are off limits."

"Thank you." Patrick looked up as someone approached, a little alarmed to find his son there.

Liam hesitated, looking curiously at Cooper, and then came forward to sit beside Patrick. "Hey, dad."

"Hey. This is Jason Cooper, Visualize's Grand Vizier. Brother Cooper, this is my son, Liam."

Liam looked even more surprised, but he stuck out his hand and said, "Pleased to meet you" like he'd been taught as a boy.

Cooper smiled as he shook hands. "Likewise. You favor your mother, don't you? Fortunate, I think."

"You know my mom?"

"A long time ago now."

"Do you live around here?"

"No, I live in California mostly. I bumped into your father and stopped to say hello."

Patrick appreciated Cooper keeping it vague in case his son wasn't well informed, but he was delighted when Liam refused to be satisfied with it.

"To talk about Brett, you mean. Mason, though I'm sure Mr. Stiles came into it too."

Cooper's mouth tugged into a wry smile. "Very much your father's son, I see. Yes. I wanted to assure him that there is no sanctioned activity involving your family."

Liam frowned as he concentrated. Then he surprised Patrick by asking, "If Red John's plan had worked, would I have grown up knowing you?"

"No." Cooper's response was firm and immediate. "Red John perverted our faith and everything our church stands for. If I had met you under those circumstances, which is highly unlikely, you would have been in your father's arms in 24 hours."

He was obviously telling the truth, Patrick saw. Liam must have seen it too, because he relaxed. "Have you ever met Brett Mason?"

"No. I was slightly acquainted with his grandfather, however." Cooper turned to Patrick. "Would it help for me to visit him?"

"Not yet." Patrick tapped his lips with a finger.

Cooper sighed. "The last thing Visualize needs is to have the Red John scandal dredged up again. Whatever I can do to help avoid that, I'm willing to do." He stood up and reached into his jacket pocket, then handed them both his business card. "That's my private cell number. I'm always reachable on it. Call me if you need my help."

Patrick pocketed the card, then stood to shake Cooper's hand. "Thank you. One question: how did you know I'd be here?"

Cooper smiled. "Your travel plans weren't secret. And there are cameras all over the DC streets."

"And Visualize still has many friends in law enforcement," Patrick added.

"We are fortunate to have members in all walks of life. Including the Sacramento police, who will in future be scrupulously careful in any dealings with your family."

"I'm glad to hear it," Patrick said. "Good to see you."

"And you." Cooper turned to shake Liam's hand. "It was a privilege to meet you, Liam. Take care."

"Thanks. You too." Liam shook hands solemnly.

Father and son sat back down, and Patrick refilled his teacup. "Want anything?"

"No, I'm good. So that was a Visualize guy, huh? Didn't seem so scary."

Patrick chuckled. "He's not. And he really does want to keep his cult out of trouble, so he'll be our ally if there's someone on the inside stirring it up. Hang onto that card."

"I will."

"So how did your sister talk your mom into dress shopping instead of furniture shopping?"

"We walked by a window display and she oohed and aahed over something. Then Uncle Cho explained in detail why it sucked. I could see the lightbulb going on in Mom's head. Apparently his mom made clothes so he's kind of an expert."

"And he's not her over-indulgent father." So it had been a plot, Patrick thought. It was likely for the best, though.

"No." Liam grinned. "Today you're my over-indulgent father who's taking me to the National Gallery. And the gift shop."

"Absolutely. Let's go broaden our minds, shall we?"

"I was thinking more about decorating my new room," Liam replied. "But we can do both."

Patrick chuckled and ruffled his son's hair as they went out the door.

mmm

They were all exhausted when they got back to their hotel after dinner. Patrick had been inspired after viewing the modern art collection and stopped by a high-end furniture store, summoning Teresa to come approve a living room set and a bed and dresser Liam loved. At least she'd have a couch and coffee table when she moved in. But the master bedroom would have only a mattress set to begin with.

Victoria had a bunch of pictures of dresses for him to look at on the plane tomorrow morning, but true to her word, she hadn't bought one. "I need my beauty sleep," she announced after they walked into the suite. "See you in the morning."

Liam settled on the couch in front of the big curved TV and started scrolling through the menu. Teresa said, "Don't stay up late; we have to get up early."

"Okay. Good night," he replied without looking up.

Patrick followed Teresa into the master bedroom and closed the door behind him. "So Cho's a fashion expert, hm?"

"Amazingly, yes. Which we should both be thankful for. All your theorizing about concealing to appeal couldn't hold a candle to Cho saying 'Men like mystery.'"

Patrick sighed. "Why does being the parent give me less credibility than the uncle she hasn't seen in years?"

Teresa smiled and gave him a kiss. "Unfair, isn't it? Just be glad he's on our side."

"I always have been." He slid his arms around her. "But not as glad as I am that you're on my side."

"Smart man." She looked at him for a moment, then asked, "Did something happen today? You and Liam both look like you're brooding."

Patrick didn't know whether to be chagrined or proud that she could read him so well. "I ran into Jason Cooper this afternoon."

"Ran into?" She stepped back and gave him a skeptical look.

"He tracked me down to tell me that if something's going on between us and someone at Visualize, it's not officially sanctioned. And that the last thing he wants is to dredge up all the bad publicity around Red John."

She scowled. "Publicity they deserved."

"I agree. He told me everybody in Stiles' inner circle knew about Brett Mason, so it's possible someone has made contact with him. He'll look into it from his end. But I'm thinking we might want to invite Brett for dinner and explain to him our perspective on Visualize and the difference between heredity and destiny."

"Worth a try," she said, but she frowned. "It's not like you to lay all the cards on the table."

"It's not really about Brett. It's about Victoria." He desperately hoped that giving her all the information, and being part of an open discussion about his motives, would help her make good decisions.

Looking at Teresa, he realized her earlier happiness had vanished. He wanted it back. "But right now is about us. We have plenty of nights ahead of us where we won't be able to do anything but talk. Tonight we have this massive bed, no possibility you'll get an emergency call, and no dog to interrupt us wanting out. We should seize the opportunity."

Her smile returned. "Too bad I didn't pack any lingerie."

"Ah, but you have a husband who thinks of these things for you."

Her smile turned sly. "Lucky me."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long delay in this story! My summer is shaping up to be crazy, but I'll try to do better. Thanks for persevering with me!

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

Teresa rolled over and blinked at the alarm clock. It was 2 a.m., and Patrick's side of the bed was empty and cold.

She sat up with a sigh. He should have been tired enough to sleep through the night after their return from DC. She'd put in some work while he ran errands and cooked dinner, and then they'd gone for the after-dinner stroll he loved.

All this Visualize crap was dredging up stuff in his head they'd both hoped was laid to rest forever, she thought. At least, she hoped that was what his insomnia was about. She would feel horrible if it was her new job bothering him so much.

Patrick worked hard at taking care of her and the kids, but sometimes he needed someone to take care of him. Throwing back the covers, she slid out of bed and went looking for him.

The kids' doors were both closed, but she checked in on them anyway. Patrick wasn't in either room, but she bet he'd looked in on his way to wherever he was, just like he had since they were babies.

She paused at the top of the stairs, not seeing any light but the moon's filtering through the downstairs windows. He wasn't sitting up reading, then. Belle's bed was empty, so at least he had company.

She made her way down the steps in the dark from memory, reflecting on how familiar this house was after a decade. She'd never loved it as much as Patrick did, but it was her home. And soon, very soon, she'd be leaving it. She'd have a new place to get used to and learn to navigate in the dark.

The back door was open, so she wasn't surprised to find Patrick standing on the back porch, looking out at the stars as Belle moved around in the grass, sniffing every few steps. "Hey," she said quietly as she stepped outside.

He wasn't startled, so he must have heard her approach. "Hey," he replied.

She couldn't tell from his tone if he was upset. "Can't sleep?"

"I slept a little. Think I'm just jet lagged." He reached out a hand, and she took it, letting him draw her into a warm hug.

She didn't believe in his jet lag for a minute. "Getting a little too real for you?"

He let out a sigh. "Maybe."

"My promotion, or the kids?"

"Both, of course. It's just...a lot happening at once."

Change was hard for such a creature of habit, she reflected, laying her head on his shoulder. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Don't be. I'll deal with it."

"We'll deal with it," she corrected. "You're not the only one who's dreading being apart."

He gave a wry chuckle. "Yes, I know how much you'll miss my nocturnal rambling."

"I hate waking up alone. But it's 5 in Washington right now. When you can't sleep, you can call me and badger me into not skipping breakfast," she pointed out. "You won't even have to worry about waking me up."

"That's a plus," he mused.

"In fact, I can't think of a better way to start the day than talking to you. I love the sound of your voice, you know."

"And here I thought it was my hands you were so fond of."

"Oh, definitely. But if I can't have those, at least I can have your voice. And your smile, if you'll bring yourself to video chat."

"Anything for you, love."

She smiled and hugged him tightly, then stepped back. "Come on. I don't want to have the bed to myself any sooner than necessary." She took his hand and pulled him toward the door. He came willingly, only stopping to call Belle to follow them and then locking the door once they were safely inside.

They went upstairs in silence, then crawled under the covers, Patrick on his back with her snuggled in his arm. He laid his cheek against her hair, drawing a long breath and reminding her how comforting scent could be.

"When we move into the condo, I'm stealing your pajama top to sleep in," she warned him.

He chucked. "So demanding. I wish I could reciprocate, but I'm afraid I might traumatize the kids if I started wearing one of your nighties."

She grinned. "I bet you could pull off the green lace one." Then she sobered. "I'll have my service weapon, so I'm leaving the other guns here."

"No. You need at least one extra. Just in case." Patrick paused. "I'm torn between splitting up the kitchen equipment and just buying new there."

"I just need a coffee machine and some mugs. And silverware. Maybe a plate or two," she assured him. She'd seen all the restaurants nearby and had no plans to cook.

"Yes, my dear," he chuckled, "but I plan to cook while I'm there so you'll have leftovers. So I'll need a few more things."

Teresa stifled a groan. She could see where this was going: Patrick was going to end up buying out a Williams Sonoma store to furnish the new kitchen. "I guess we'll need to take a tea kettle so you are willing to visit."

"You can have the electric one. I don't use it much anyway," he replied. "And the coffeemaker."

"What if the kids want coffee?"

"They can drink tea or stop at Starbucks," he replied. "Don't worry, Teresa. Victoria will need some dishes and pots and pans for college anyway. We'll buy it all in DC and then move it to college with her."

Teresa felt a distinct pang at the thought of moving her daughter to college and leaving her there. She was grateful Liam was taking a gap year so she'd have some time to recover before it was his turn. But moving to DC and having Patrick leave her there was the more immediate challenge. "I hate dividing up our stuff. It feels too much like...a divorce."

"But it's not," Patrick said firmly, holding her a little tighter. "This is just temporary. A multi-phase move of our household, not the creation of two separate ones. A beginning, not an ending."

"I know," she sighed. "I just...I want this new job. But I love our life together, and I hate to interrupt it."

"Don't think of it as an interruption," he said after a moment. "Think of it as an evolution. A growth spurt, if you will. Painful and awkward, but leading to a better, more mature state."

She grinned against his shoulder. "Were you an awkward adolescent?"

"Not for long. It was bad for business."

His dry tone didn't quite cover the pain, and for the thousandth time she wished she could have met his father and given him the punch he'd so richly deserved. But Patrick's difficult childhood had made him a sympathetic and supportive father, and she admired how he'd made lemonade out of the lemons life had handed him.

"But that proves my point," he continued. "I went through my gangly phase, and my arrogant idiot phase, and I still ended up the paragon you married."

Teresa snorted with laughter. "You were hardly a paragon when I married you. You might be now, but that's after 18 years of training."

He chuckled. "Taking credit, my love? You realize you get the blame then too."

"Nothing new there," she murmured, thinking of the old days at the CBI.

"No," he agreed, tenderly kissing her cheek.

"Are we inviting Brett for dinner? See what he knows?" she asked. She wanted to get this cleared up before she left.

"I was thinking Friday," Patrick replied.

"Good. I'll try to be home early." She closed her eyes and relaxed against him. "Now go to sleep, okay? Or at least lie still so I can sleep."

"Your wish is my command," he said, his voice rumbling soothingly through his chest and into her ear pressed against it.

After a moment, she whispered, "I'm going to miss you so much." Her throat closed with anticipated longing.

"As you should," Patrick replied. Then his arm tightened around her, and he sighed. "Not half as much as I'm going to miss you."

"It's only for a little while," she reminded them both.

"Mm hm." He rubbed her back slowly, and she sighed in contentment. She had to cherish her time with him for the two weeks until her move, not waste it missing him while he was with her.

"Love you," she whispered.

"Love you," he whispered back.

A few minutes later, she drifted off, his heartbeat lulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

mmm

The next morning, Lisbon woke when her alarm went off, unsurprised to find Patrick already up. As she got to her feet, yawning, Belle trotted in to say hello, and she bent to pet her before they made their way down the stairs.

Patrick was cooking eggs while Liam made tea and Victoria picked at some homemade granola. She could smell that the coffeemaker had done its job, so she greeted it first, then ruffled Liam's hair, kissed Patrick, and sat down beside Victoria. "Good morning, sweetie."

"Morning." Victoria was not a morning person.

"What's your day look like?" Teresa took a sip of her coffee.

"I'll be home late. The prom committee's meeting after school."

Liam said, "I'll get a ride home from rehearsal."

"Text me when you're done and I can pick you up," Teresa offered.

"I can't take Dad's car?" Victoria looked dismayed.

"I have errands to run," Patrick replied. "Some of them have to do with making sure the Citroen is in good shape, so don't complain."

Liam said, "You're gonna let us drive the Citroen?"

"I'd rather drive it and let you two use the Volvo. I also need to get to the farmer's market and the store. Which reminds me, invite Brett for dinner on Friday."

"Why?" she demanded. "So you can interrogate him?"

"So we can get to know him. Invite his parents, too, if you like," Patrick replied.

"What are you up to?" Victoria narrowed her eyes at her father.

"I'm trying to get to know my daughter's boyfriend. After all, he may be part of the family one day."

Teresa choked on her coffee. Liam helpfully patted her on the back.

Victoria grumbled, "Not if you guys scare him off."

"Nonsense. If he inherited any of Bret Stiles' backbone, it'll take far more than one dinner to scare him off. If anything, any hint of resistance on our part will probably just stiffen his resolve," Patrick said. "If you're expecting this dinner to be some kind of Montague/Capulet showdown, I'm afraid you'll be sadly disappointed."

"Promise me you're not working an angle," she insisted.

Patrick sighed, lifting the pan off the stove to distribute the eggs among three plates. Then he set it down again and turned to face Victoria. "I promise. I just want to find out more about him. Like what his future plans are. Nothing unreasonable."

Liam sat down and began dumping ketchup on his eggs, diverting Patrick's attention. Grinning at his sister, he said, "You should be more worried what Brett might find out about you, Vic. Have I got some stories."

Victoria glared at him. "Are you so lame you don't have anything better to do on a Friday night than eat with your family?"

"Hey," Teresa protested.

Liam chuckled. "Sure. But this'll be the best show in town."

Teresa said, "Keep that up and you'll be disinvited, Liam."

He glanced at her and shrugged, but he stopped teasing his sister. Patrick said, "That would be a shame. I'm thinking of making paella. Victoria, be sure to ask if they have any food allergies or strong aversions."

"Okay." She cheered up a little, apparently anticipating how impressed the Masons would be with her father's elegant cooking.

"Eat up," Patrick encouraged, setting a plate of toast points on the table. "We need to leave in fifteen minutes."

"I'm done. I'll go put my shoes on," Victoria said, getting up.

Patrick sat down and began eating his eggs. Teresa said, "I won't work late tonight unless something major breaks."

"Good. We have a lot to do," he smiled.

Teresa summoned a smile in response.

mmm

The week passed in a blur. Work was hectic as she focused on hiring her successor, and when she got home she wanted to spend time with her family, not packing. As Friday approached, she began to notice boxes appearing in the guest room, signaling that Patrick was taking care of it, but this weekend she was going to have to make an effort to see that all the things she wanted were included.

Todd and Melinda Mason had accepted the invitation to accompany Brett to Friday dinner, so she went to work early so she could leave a little earlier than normal. It wasn't until she was driving home that day that she had time to be nervous about the evening. Patrick had a plan, she was sure, though she was also sure he would stay within the bounds of his promise to his daughter. He'd always made sure the kids could trust his promises, because he knew firsthand how damaging it was for a child not to be able to trust a father.

She was curious to watch Brett and his parents interact, and she wondered if the Masons would be watching how Victoria interacted with her and Patrick, looking for clues as to who she might grow into and what she would expect marriage to be like. Though despite Patrick's comment, it was extremely unlikely that the high school sweethearts would last.

At least, that was her belief. Patrick hadn't gone to high school, but he'd met Angela when he was about the twins' age, so it might seem more realistic to him. Melinda Mason had also married young. Maybe she was the only one skeptical about young love.

She smiled as she pulled into the driveway and saw the Citroen sitting there. Despite the fact she suspected it had cost a small fortune to bring to the point where Patrick could rely on it as his main vehicle again, seeing it brought back so many memories. She hoped she could make time to go for a ride in it before she left.

Belle came to meet her at the door, and they went inside together. The house was filled with delicious smells, including fresh baked dinner rolls that made her mouth water. She wasn't surprised to find Liam hanging hopefully around the kitchen while Patrick alternated between stirring something on the stove and checking the oven. "No paella?" she asked.

"I decided to go more traditional," he replied, pausing to kiss her hello. "A beef roast with vegetables, followed by homemade chocolate pudding."

"Good choice." Resisting the urge to showboat was hard for him, and she wondered what Victoria had told him about their guests.

"I picked out a nice red for dinner, but would you see what we have for the hors d'oeuvres? A crisp white or blush," he said. "It's just cheese and crackers and olives."

"Sure. I'm going to freshen up. What time are they getting here?"

"Five minutes. Victoria's upstairs primping. Liam, if you're done setting the table, feed Belle."

"Okay," Liam said, whistling to the dog and going out to the back porch.

Teresa headed upstairs, quickly removed her jacket and touched up her hair and makeup, then went to her daughter's room. "You look beautiful, sweetie."

"Thanks Mom." Victoria frowned in the mirror and tweaked one of her curls. "Dad's not up to something, is he?"

Teresa smiled. "He's usually up to several things at once. But I think he's sincere in getting to know Brett better. Part of that is getting to know his parents."

"I just don't want him to embarrass them."

"I can't guarantee that," Teresa replied, "but if he does, it'll be for a good reason. Not just to make you unhappy. You know that, right?"

Victoria grimaced. "He might do it to amuse himself. And Liam."

Teresa had to admit that was a possibility. "Then you can bond with Brett over how embarrassing parents can be."

"You don't understand," she complained.

"Possibly not. When I was your age, my mom was dead and my dad was a drunk who didn't care what happened to me as long as there was beer in the house."

"I know, I know."

"But what you don't understand," Teresa went on, "is that this is not some random boy you're dating. Visualize was a serious threat to our family. They kidnapped me and held me in a mental hospital, Victoria. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. And so does your father."

"But Brett isn't in Visualize. It has nothing to do with him."

"!We don't know that. It would be natural for him to get in touch with people who can tell him about his biological father. And those people might be unscrupulous enough to use him for their own ends."

Victoria's frown went from obstinate to thoughtful, and Teresa realized she had hit on the perfect way to reframe the situation. "So it's not Brett you're worried about, or his parents. It's who else might be involved."

"We have to find out if something's going on." Teresa paused, hearing sounds at the front door. "And I think that's your cue to make your grand entrance. Don't worry, sweetie. Just try to have fun."

Victoria gave a dramatic groan, but she got up out of her chair and headed for the door. Teresa smiled and followed.

Patrick was still in the kitchen, but Liam was handing out drinks and hors d'oeuvres like a good host in training. The Masons all looked up as she and Victoria joined them in the living room, smiling.

Todd Mason was a distinguished looking man, gray sprinkled along his temples. Teresa felt a flash of familiarity, which she attributed to seeing him at school functions. "Welcome to our home," she said as he got up to shake her hand. "I'm Teresa Lisbon."

"Todd Mason. Thanks for inviting us," he replied. "It's a lovely place you have here."

"Thanks for coming. I hope the traffic wasn't too bad."

"Not once we got out of town," he chuckled, sitting down again next to his wife and picking up his glass of wine.

"Good to see you again," Teresa said to Melinda.

"You too," Melinda smiled.

Teresa turned to Brett, but he was occupied in smiling at Victoria, so she looked at Liam. "What's the ETA on dinner?"

"Dad says ten minutes."

Teresa was relieved she didn't have to play hostess longer. Patrick was much better at this kind of thing. She supposed her job here was to make them comfortable so they'd be all softened up for whatever he had in mind, but it felt weird. They'd never used their own home for an interrogation.

Todd Mason made her feel a little better about it by sneering just a little as he said, "So your husband's the cook, huh?"

"Quite a good one," she replied. "Much better than I am. He enjoys it, but it'll never be anything but a chore to me. Do you cook, Mr. Mason?"

"Call me Todd. I only cook on a grill; Melinda's the one in charge of the kitchen. But I guess being an FBI agent, you don't have a lot of time for homemaking."

"And even less inclination. Fortunately Patrick has always been good at it, even when he was working for the FBI."

"With," Patrick called from the kitchen. "I worked with them, not for."

Teresa smiled, and Melinda chuckled, looking sympathetic.

"So, young lady," Todd said, turning to Victoria, "is your dad teaching you to cook?"

She gave him the winning smile she'd gotten from Patrick. "Enough so I'll never starve, but I don't really enjoy it. Except baking, but mom taught me that."

"That's nice. Maybe you'll become a pastry chef," he joked.

Victoria looked perplexed. "I'm either going to major in equine science or biology. I'm thinking of going to veterinary school after college."

Melinda said, "That sounds lovely, taking care of people's beloved pets."

Liam said, "And expensive thoroughbreds."

Teresa raised an eyebrow at him, but he merely grinned at her. Victoria said, "I'd like to work with horses mostly, but I love dogs and cats too. You have dogs, right?"

"Two," Melinda said. "Pomeranians."

Teresa noticed that Todd rolled his eyes. Interesting.

Brett said, "Olly and Livvy. They're sweet; you'd like them, Vic. Where's Belle?"

"Hoping for scraps in the kitchen," she replied. "Dad spoils her."

"Nonsense," Patrick called cheerfully, appearing in the doorway. "Dinner's almost ready, if you'd like to go through to the dining room."

Teresa watched Todd smirk as he looked at Patrick's apron, a tasteful black with blue pinstripes. But he quickly converted it to a smile as he stood. "Smells terrific, Patrick."

"Need help serving?" Teresa asked as she got to her feet.

"No, my dear, but thank you," he replied. "Go ahead and sit. I'll be there in a moment."

Teresa led the way into the dining room, sitting at her end of the table as the others found their chairs. Todd went to the other end, possibly out of habit, but Victoria intercepted him. "That's my dad's seat; come sit by me."

"Of course," he said, changing course good-naturedly.

Soon they were all settled and looking at platters of delicious smelling food, and Teresa was surprised when Victoria announced she would say grace. She said a pretty one, making sure to give thanks for their guests as well as the food and the cook, but Teresa was sure Patrick, her unrepentant atheist, was using the time to give the Masons a good once over.

Patrick kept the conversation moving as they ate, recounting a tale she'd never heard before that she suspected might be fabricated. She was pretty sure she'd have heard about it if he'd ever helped arrest an actual mad scientist. The Masons were spellbound, and Liam and Victoria looked amused, so she chose not to quibble.

As she expected, Patrick waited until dessert, when they were all relaxed and satisfied, to begin his interrogation. "So, Brett, I understand you recently learned about your biological father. Teresa and I crossed paths with him several times, you know. We'd be happy to answer any questions."

Brett turned a stunned and slightly terrified look on Patrick, then Todd. "Uh."

"You don't look much like him. Maybe around the eyes a bit. But he was old when we met him, so maybe I just can't detect the resemblance yet," Patrick continued cheerfully. "What do you think, Teresa?"

Teresa glanced at her daughter, who was eyeing Patrick with displeasure, and her son, who was leaning back in his chair grinning. "He was a very distinguished looking man. Charming in a roguish way. He had lovely eyes, as I remember."

Now it was Patrick's turn to look unhappily surprised. "Did he? Hm."

"But I will never forget that he created the environment where Red John flourished and recruited followers," she said. "He wasn't as smart as he wanted everyone to believe."

"Even puppeteers can get tangled up in their strings," Patrick remarked.

Teresa couldn't resist saying, "Yes, I've seen that happen."

He shot her a swift grin before turning back to Brett. "You must have questions. Or perhaps you've already asked someone else?"

"No, uh, just a search. I found a bunch of crazy stories." He shrugged. "I decided I didn't want to know any more. I have a dad. That's what's important."

Patrick's expression told Teresa he'd gleaned something from Brett's answer.

Todd said, "That's right. Biology isn't destiny."

"Very true," Patrick said. "Something for which I'm personally grateful. I have no idea who my mother was, after all."

Everyone gaped at him. After a moment, Melinda said, "Oh, how terrible for you. How...wouldn't her name be on your birth certificate?"

Teresa looked closely at Patrick, trying to decide how much of this was the truth. She knew he had no memory of his mother, but she'd never heard this assertion before.

"I don't have one. Apparently I wasn't born in a hospital," Patrick replied, his tone no more emotional than if he were discussing the weather. "I'm not a hundred percent sure the man who raised me was my biological father, either. I rather hope not, actually. I don't look like him at all, which is comforting."

Teresa shot a glance at her children, worried about the impact these revelations might have, true or not. Neither of them looked distressed, though Victoria seemed dubious and Liam was staring at his father with wide-eyed fascination.

Patrick leaned forward as if preparing to divulge a secret, and Teresa noted with wry amusement that everyone else leaned in too. "When I was young, I used to dream that he'd stolen me from my real family and they were out there looking for me. That they'd find me and we'd be a happy family."

Brett was hooked, she could tell. "And now?"

Patrick sat back with a shrug. "Now it doesn't matter. I know who I am. And I made my own family. Nothing I could learn about my parentage would change that."

"That's right," Todd said. "Look forward, not backward. That's the way to be a success."

Patrick glanced at Teresa. "A lesson it took me far too long to learn."

Brett nodded, but after a moment he said, "But you must be curious. How could you work for the FBI all those years and not try to find out about your mother?"

"I was busy catching bad guys," Patrick replied.

"But you have to still wonder a little bit. Maybe your name isn't even your real one."

"Maybe." Patrick shrugged. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Liam said, "Romeo and Juliet? Really, Dad?"

"There's a Shakespeare quote for any occasion," Patrick grinned. "What about you, Liam? Any burning desire to learn about your unknown grandmother?"

"A little, I guess. But I take after Mom. Vic's the one with the dominant Jane genes."

Victoria glared at her brother. "Well, I don't care. I'm too busy with my future. There's prom and graduation and then college. If I want to know my genetic heritage, I'll have my DNA analyzed."

Brett turned to her. "But I bet if someone turned up who knew your grandmother, you'd listen to what she had to say."

Victoria tossed her hair over her shoulder. "If someone turned up claiming to know anybody in my dad's family, I'd slam the door in their face and check to make sure I still had my phone."

Patrick chucked approvingly. "Smart girl. You should follow her example, Brett. Anybody approaching you about Stiles has an agenda. Like all powerful men, he was surrounded by ambitious people. And he didn't hold to a moral code you'd recognize. He protected Red John until he became a threat to his own power. He knew I'd tear Visualize apart searching for my wife. And Visualize was the one thing he genuinely cared about."

"Nobody's approached me," Brett said.

"Someone probably will."

Todd said, "Not if I can help it."

"Good," Patrick said. "Can I get anyone a cup of tea? Or coffee?"

Melinda said, "We really should be going. But thank you for the lovely meal, Patrick. I'm so glad we got this chance to visit, and I hope you'll come to dinner at our house sometime."

"We'd love to," he smiled, standing as the Masons got up.

Teresa helped him see off their guests, noticing that Victoria took advantage of the distraction to plant a kiss on Brett. When the Masons were on their way, Patrick said, "Victoria, you have dish duty."

"No way." She folded her arms and glared at him. "What did you learn from all that?"

Patrick tapped his lips with a finger. "Melinda Mason is probably guileless. No doubt Stiles selected for that. Todd is less so. And your boyfriend, my dear, is lying through his teeth."

"Obviously," Victoria retorted. "You called him out in front of his dad. Of course he couldn't say he wants to know about his birth father."

Patrick waved a hand dismissively. "That's not what concerns me. Someone from Visualize has approached him."

Teresa frowned. "You're sure?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "When are you going to stop asking me that?"

"We need to find out who," Teresa said, uneasy. She wanted her children much further from Visualize than two degrees of separation.

"Don't worry, my dear," Patrick said. "I'll be very surprised if Brett doesn't find some excuse to talk to me privately soon."

Liam said, "Was that true, Dad? About your mom?"

"Partly. I don't remember her, but I do have a birth certificate and thus a name. I did a little investigating before Charlotte was born, and she died when I was a baby. So no mysterious woman is going to turn out to be your grandmother." Patrick clapped him on the shoulder. "Help your sister with the dishes, please."

Liam looked closely at his dad. "You weren't lying about wishing for your real family to find you, though."

"No," Patrick replied, sobering. "No, that was true. But I suspect every unhappy child does at one time or another. A little truth helps sell a story."

Liam nodded, then headed for the kitchen. Victoria hesitated, then thought better of whatever she was about to say and followed him.

Teresa said, "You think Brett will tell you the truth?"

Patrick's mouth flattened into a grim smile. "One way or the other, yes." Then he smiled and kissed her. "Don't worry, my love. I'll sort this out."

She smiled back, appreciating his attempt to reassure her, but the pit of worry in her stomach didn't go away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews of the last chapter! And to my fellow Americans, have a wonderful Fourth of July!

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

Patrick threw himself into packing and planning over the next week. He'd always dealt with anxiety by distracting himself, and focusing on the logistics of moving part of the household across country kept him from thinking about the emotional challenges ahead.

Even before they'd become lovers, he'd looked after Teresa's wellbeing in his own haphazard way, but afterward he'd thrown himself into the task of making her life as comfortable and healthy as possible. In the beginning it had partly been to fill the time after giving up the hunt for Red John and to make amends for putting her in danger, but by now it was engrained habit. Just because he was now going to do it from three thousand miles away didn't mean he was going to put less effort into it.

All her work clothes would go with her, along with cold weather gear, but he held back part of her casual wardrobe so she wouldn't have to pack much for her visits here. He tossed a couple of his suits in for his visits there, too.

He carefully chose family pictures to decorate the condo, along with some of her favorite books and mementos, rearranging things and bringing a few items down from the attic to fill the space so the house didn't feel like it was being emptied.

Liam started roaming the house after he got home, noting the changes, and Patrick began finding sketches and little pieces of art he'd done over the years tucked carefully into the moving boxes. It occurred to him, belatedly, that he wasn't the only one who was going to miss Teresa.

Thursday evening, Victoria was at school planning the prom, a mere six weeks away, and Teresa was frantically wrapping up whatever remained to be done at the office, so Patrick took a break from packing coffee mugs and went up to Liam's room. "Got a minute?" he called as he knocked.

"Yeah," Liam replied. He put his guitar on its stand as his father entered.

"Anything you want to leave at the new place?"

Liam shook his head, then frowned in thought. "Got room on the truck?"

"A little, yeah. And your mom's car should have space."

"I need my electric guitar for the band, but maybe I could take my acoustic to the condo. I could play that when I visit."

"Good idea." Patrick sat down on the bed. "You know, you can pick when you want to go. Anytime after graduation. Your mom would love the company."

"Yeah. We're trying to figure out whether to scrounge for summer gigs. Maybe I'll just tell the guys I'm going. Long good-byes are the worst."

"I agree," Patrick said.

"The thing is..." Liam trailed off.

"Worried about your sister?"

"Kind of." Liam looked relieved.

"That's my job. And frankly, I'd feel better if you were in Washington reminding your mom to eat something besides popcorn for dinner. I wouldn't need to worry about either of you and I could focus on Victoria and her evolving drama."

Liam grinned a little. "Yeah, but..."

"But you're worried she'll pull the wool over my eyes," Patrick finished for him.

He shrugged.

"Many wily people have tried. Few have succeeded," Patrick told him.

"Yeah, but at some point the student becomes the master," Liam said solemnly, before one corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Today is not that day, son," Patrick assured him gravely. "Besides, I seriously doubt she'll come up with a cockamamie idea worse than what I pulled at her age."

"Complacency is the enemy of vigilance," Liam said. "You don't always know what we're up to."

"No, but that is by design. How could you ever grow into responsible adults if you thought I was hovering at your elbow all the time? Even if I wanted to, your mom wouldn't let me. A little benign neglect is a necessary element to raising a child successfully." Patrick chuckled a little. "Left to my own devices, I would probably have microchipped you both at birth."

"Yay for Mom," Liam said, not at all sarcastically.

"Agreed." Patrick got to his feet. "Anyway, just wanted to let you know you can move anytime you want. I won't be offended. In fact I'll be envious."

"Are you planning to spend the summer here?"

"No, but I need to find a good home for Blueberry and make arrangements for Lady. I doubt your sister will be in a hurry to leave, but once she picks a college we'll have a lot to do. And if she decides to go out east, DC will be far more convenient than here."

"I think that's a safe bet," Liam said. After a moment, he continued, "It'll be weird with only one of you, wherever I live."

"Yes. But it's only temporary."

Liam shrugged. "I know. But I wish things didn't have to change."

"I know. But life is about change, in a way. We all change every day, even if it's only shedding skin cells or hair."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Thanks for that mental image."

Patrick chuckled, then frowned as his cell rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, thinking it was Teresa or Victoria, but saw it was an unfamiliar local number instead. "Hello?"

"Mr. Jane? It's Brett Mason."

"Brett. How are you?" Patrick got up and headed for the door, noting that Liam followed.

"Good. Uh, I was wondering if I could meet you somewhere. To talk."

"Sure. Anyplace in mind?"

"Do you know Joe's Cafe, on Hinton Street?"

Nowhere near Brett's school or home, Patrick noted. Obviously he didn't want his parents to know about this meeting. "Yes. It'll take me about half an hour to get there."

"See you there. Thanks." Brett hung up quickly, confirming Patrick's guess that this was a clandestine meeting.

Liam said, "He's not coming here?"

"No. A little hole in the wall across town," Patrick replied. "Your mom should be home soon, so tell her I won't be out late."

"I'm coming with you," Liam declared.

Patrick paused and looked at his son, noting the set of his jaw. His resemblance to his mother was pronounced when he was being stubborn. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. What if it's a trap?"

"He's a high school kid, not a master criminal," Patrick pointed out.

"But what if he's being used? You need backup."

Patrick concealed his recoil at the idea of his teenaged son as backup. "You're a little young for us to be reversing roles. It's not your job to protect me. But I appreciate the thought."

"You have to protect your family," Liam said, folding his arms. "That's what you always say. Maybe I can't carry a gun like Mom, but I can at least call 911 or follow if they kidnap you."

"Nobody's going to kidnap me. It's a public place," Patrick assured him.

"Mom was kidnapped from a crime scene with her entire team on the premises," Liam argued.

Ah. His son had certainly done his research. "Because her boss was in on it. I seriously doubt Brett can get the drop on me, Liam. But if it makes you feel better, I'll text your mom where I'm going."

"What about me? You're gonna leave me here by myself?"

Patrick frowned. "You've been home alone before."

"Not with a sinister cult out to get us."

"First, there's no evidence anyone is out to get us. And second of all, this house has a state of the art security system and a loyal dog, so—ah." Patrick stopped, grinning. "You aren't scared. You're only pretending to be so I'll take you with me."

"Would I do that?"

"I am so grateful you're as bad a liar as your mother." Patrick shook his head. "I'll be fine. If you want to be helpful, would you pack all but six of the coffee mugs? I want your mom to have enough to get through a couple of weeks."

"I haven't agreed to stay here," Liam pointed out.

"I could confiscate your keys."

"Yes, but I know where you keep the spare set."

"That won't help you if I take the car."

"Then I'll take the Citroen."

Patrick raised his eyebrows, secretly appreciating his son's determination and cleverness and curious about how far he was willing to go. "You'd stall it out before you got to the main road." The driving lessons had not gone very well, and they'd had no chance to practice. "Besides, you don't know where the spare key is for that."

Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. "Don't need to."

Patrick slapped a hand on his pocket, both disgruntled and delighted at his son's pickpocketing prowess. "You've been practicing."

"Good skill to have, you always said." Liam smirked.

"You better hope I don't tell your mother about this." Patrick snatched the key back. "You are not driving the Citroen."

"Then I'll get an Uber." Liam seemed to be enjoying the clash of wills but was mostly anxious.

Patrick knew he wasn't going to give in, any more than Teresa would have. If he left Liam here, he'd find a way to follow. Or he'd call his mother and alarm her unnecessarily. Or both. Still, no need to surrender quite yet. "You don't know where I'm going."

"Don't need to. I can use the phone finder app."

That was surprising news. "You can hack my phone?"

"Your password's not hard to figure out, Dad." Liam couldn't help looking smug. "Charlotte's birthday, really?"

Chagrined, Patrick realized he shouldn't be surprised Liam had figured out his older sister's birth year, and they'd been observing the day in a low-key way since he'd told the twins about her. "It's one of the most important dates in my life, and less likely for anyone to know than yours. But since we're talking about your sister, you should realize why I don't want you to go with me. I lost one child through carelessness. I'm not going to lose another."

"But your whole argument was that it's not dangerous," Liam retorted. "Now you're saying it is?"

"I'm saying I'm your father and you should respect my explicit wish that you stay here."

Liam scowled. "Really? That's all you got?"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, until Patrick's phone rang. He saw it was Teresa, so he answered it. "Just the person I want to speak to. Are you on your way home?"

"I thought I was always the person you want to speak to, and yes. Have you eaten? I thought I'd pick up something from Manuel's."

"I'm on my way out to dinner now, actually."

"Hot date?"

"Depends on who you ask. Your daughter might think so."

Teresa chuckled. "So you were right about Brett. Nothing like waiting til the last minute. Where?"

"Place called Joe's Cafe. Liam is refusing to let me go alone, so how about you be my backup? Just like old times?"

"You never actually invited me in the old days," she pointed out.

"Never's a strong word. Please say hello to your son, so he knows I'm not faking this conversation." Patrick handed the phone to Liam, whose suspicious expression turned sheepish.

"Hi Mom. Uh huh. Okay." Liam grinned suddenly. "You're welcome." He handed the phone back.

"I'll head over and stake the place out," Teresa said.

"Pick up some takeout on the way. No need to skip dinner."

"Wouldn't be a stakeout without fast food," she replied. "Love you."

"Love you too." Patrick hung up and looked at Liam. "Satisfied?"

"Yeah. I'll just heat up leftovers for dinner."

"Take your pick of what's in the freezer. And don't tell your sister where we are if she gets home before we do."

"I'll tell her you and Mom are on a dinner date."

"Just like old times," Patrick agreed, smiling as he headed for the door.

mmm

Patrick had to look hard to spot Teresa's car in the parking lot next door to the cafe, strategically placed under a tree so it was nearly invisible in the dark. He flashed a grin her way as he got out of the Citroen and went into the cafe, which was fairly busy. Brett was sitting in a booth sipping a soda and crinkling up a paper napkin ring, looking nervous, but not as nervous as Patrick expected.

"Good evening," Patrick said as he slid into the booth.

"Hey, Mr. Jane. Thanks for meeting me."

"No problem. What can I do for you?" As if he didn't know. This was not an ambush; Brett wasn't signaling deception, just curiosity and a little anxiety. He just wanted to hear some stories.

"I was hoping you could tell me about my biological father. I, uh, I don't want my parents to know, though, because they wouldn't like it. I love my dad," he said quickly, "but I wonder about where I come from."

"That's natural. I'm sure you've looked him up online."

"Yeah. But that only tells me what he did, not who he was."

Patrick looked up as an alarmingly young waiter came over. "Ready to order?"

"I'll have a hot tea with milk, scrambled eggs, wheat toast, and a blueberry muffin," Patrick replied promptly, having spotted the "breakfast all day" message on the front of the menu.

"Sure. You?"

Brett hesitated, then said, "Double bacon cheeseburger with fries."

"Got it. That all?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes, thanks."

When they were alone again, Patrick said, "I'm not sure anyone really knew who Bret Stiles was. Maybe not even him. His was a carefully constructed persona, designed to keep his cult together, attracting his followers while discouraging rivals. He enjoyed manipulating people and being adored. But then, who doesn't?"

Brett frowned. "Was he a good man?"

"That depends entirely on your definition of good." Patrick paused as his tea arrived, taking a cautious sip. It wasn't terrible.

This was apparently a new idea to Brett, who looked perplexed. "Good. You know. Not a crook or crazy."

Patrick chuckled. "Is that all it takes? Well, he wasn't crazy. He was almost certainly a crook, though."

"Nobody ever proved anything."

"No. He was smart."

Brett took a long sip through his straw. "Did you like him?"

"I did, yes. He had an old world charm about him I admired. But I have a track record of liking people who were most emphatically not good. My wife has a far better moral sense, and she disliked him from the first minute she met him. And she never forgave him for his complicity in her captivity."

"But you did?"

"Not exactly." Patrick shrugged. "He took me to her, and I was grateful for that. But he also sheltered Red John, the man who killed my first family. It's complicated."

"Yeah, I guess."

Patrick sipped his tea again. He was sorry to disappoint the boy, but at the same time he needed to know who else he'd been talking to. "But I think what you really want to know is what he wanted for you."

"Mom said he wanted an heir, but then he changed his mind."

"His ego got the better of him," Patrick guessed. "But then he had to pick up the pieces Red John left after his plot to get an heir, and he had to take the position that biology isn't destiny."

"Did he change his mind really, or did he just have to pretend to?"

Patrick's estimation of Brett rose a notch. "Good question. A man's ego is a powerful thing. Hard to overcome. We all want to leave our mark on the world, and we convince ourselves that our biological urges have a nobler purpose. But history is littered with children of powerful men who led miserable lives, unable to live up to their father's expectations. No loving father wants that for their child."

"But he didn't love me," Brett said. "He didn't even know me."

"I think that was proof he loved you," Patrick replied. "He released you from the burden of growing up in Visualize and any expectations he would have had for you. He didn't abandon you as much as he gave you your freedom."

Brett frowned, processing that idea, as the waiter returned with their food. They both ate a few bites, and then he set his hamburger down. "So you think he just wanted me to live my own life and not go anywhere near Visualize. Even though he set out to have me specifically so I could lead it."

"I think Bret Stiles was smart enough to know that one man's pedestal can be another man's prison." Patrick took another bite of his eggs, which were tolerable. "I believe that to dictate how anyone else should live their life is a terrible thing to do to someone, even with the best of intentions. My father had a plan for my life and never forgave me for escaping it. Red John had a plan for me as well. He tried to steer me to his benefit, and when that didn't work, he manipulated me into creating a child he thought he could control. But the only way to find happiness is to be the mastermind of your own life. Don't let anyone else make a plan for you."

"So you don't have a plan for Victoria?" Brett seemed skeptical.

Patrick smiled. "Victoria has always had her own ideas about her life. No, my only plan is to help her do what she decides to do. I'll give her guidance, and I'll try to dissuade her from anything I think is unwise, but I'll never try to shape her destiny. That's for her to do." He paused, then added, "And I'll do whatever I can to resist anyone else trying to make a plan for her."

"But we're not adults yet, so shouldn't we listen to our elders?"

That was obviously a line he'd heard more than once. "Listen, yes. Obey without question, no. To learn to make good decisions, you have to practice. Listen to other opinions, but make your own choices." Patrick thought of Liam fearlessly arguing with him and smiled. His children had been raised with their mother's excellent moral compass and his own belief that they should forge their own paths. That foundation would serve them well. "And weigh other people's advice by how successful they've been at running their own life. If they're unhappy with theirs, it's unlikely they know what will make you happy."

Brett was listening intently as he wolfed down a bite of his burger. After he swallowed, he said, "Makes sense."

"I know at your age it can be hard to distinguish between people trying to help you and people on a power trip. Especially because they can be both at the same time."

"Yeah."

Well, that was a heartfelt agreement, Patrick thought. But then, Todd Mason had struck him as an authoritarian type of parent. Could he possibly be Brett's link to Visualize? Or was it someone else? "If you have any doubts about someone, you can trust Victoria's judgment." While not as close an observer as her brother, she was good at reading people when she wanted to be.

"I know." Brett acted like he'd stated the obvious, Patrick noted approvingly.

"Anybody who claims to know what Bret Stiles wanted is probably lying. He didn't confide in people," Patrick remarked. "His right hand man, Jason Cooper, didn't even know what he was thinking most of the time. I ran into him when I was in Washington." He made sure to sound like that last remark wasn't calculated.

"Really?"

"Yes. Couldn't have been a coincidence, of course. He wanted to make sure I knew that there was no officially sanctioned contact between Visualize and my family. Because Teresa and I made it clear to Stiles that was off limits. We didn't go after him for his role in her captivity because we wanted to put it behind us and focus on our family, and in return he agreed to keep his people away from us. That's the deal."

Patrick decided he'd talked enough and applied himself to cleaning his plate. Brett did the same until he couldn't take the silence anymore, and then said, "If I was part of your family, would that apply to me?"

Bingo, Patrick thought. "Absolutely."

They finished the meal in silence, and Patrick summoned the waiter for the check. He still had a lot to do before they left Saturday morning, after all. "I'm glad we had this chat," he told Brett. "Call me anytime. We'll be back in town a week from Sunday."

"I know. Thanks. Oh, hey, I invited you, so I should pay," Brett protested as Patrick glanced at the check and handed the waiter his credit card.

"My treat. Save your money for prom. Victoria has some pretty fancy ideas about it," Patrick said with a grin.

"Oh, I know," Brett assured him. "Well, thanks."

"Anytime. You're welcome at our dinner table anytime, too." Brett was a good kid, Patrick decided, if a confused and rudderless one. Helping him escape any unhealthy influence would be a good thing, even if doing so wasn't necessary to ensure Victoria's protection.

"Thanks."

After Patrick signed the credit card slip, they walked out together to Brett's car. "I assume you're not going to ask me to lie to my daughter about this," Patrick remarked.

"No, of course not," Brett said, surprised. "I told her I was going to call you. She said I should."

Patrick smiled. "Good. She's a smart girl."

Brett smiled too. "Yes, she is. Good night, Mr. Jane."

"Good night, Brett. Drive safe."

Patrick walked over to his car, glancing over to where Teresa had parked. Then he stopped, a chill running down his spine as he squinted at the shadows in the next parking lot. Finally he had to admit it wasn't his old eyes—her car was no longer there. Nor was it anywhere else in sight.

Patrick looked for a note as he got into his car, but there was none. Then he checked his phone, but there were no messages.

 _Did you get bored?_ he texted.

He could feel his blood pressure rise with each second that ticked by. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he called, but it went straight to voicemail. Had she forgotten to recharge it? That wasn't like her.

He called Liam. "Is your mom home?"

"No. Why?" Liam was immediately alarmed.

Patrick swallowed, calming himself down. Sending Liam into a panic wouldn't achieve anything. "We just lost track of each other, that's all. And she's not answering her phone, but I'm sure with everything going on she just forgot to charge it. I'm on my way back. Is Victoria home yet?"

"No."

"No need to avoid telling her where I went; she knew all along. I'll see you in a few minutes. Did you eat? Can I pick something up?"

"I had a sandwich and soup, so I'm good."

"Okay. See you soon."

"Okay." Liam still sounded worried, but Patrick was too, so there was nothing to do but hang up and start the car.

He drove a little too fast, his heart falling when he pulled up to the house and didn't see his wife's car. He was beginning to feel a little sick, so he took a couple deep breaths to steady himself before opening the car door.

Liam and Belle came out to meet him, Belle looking around on alert as she sensed her humans' anxiety. "This is my fault," Liam said, his voice unsteady.

"No, it's not," Patrick said immediately. "And we don't know what's happened yet. I'm going to call your Aunt Grace and see if she can access the GPS in your mom's car. Then we'll—"

Belle began barking, and seconds later they heard a car approaching. Patrick closed his eyes, willing it to be Teresa's Mustang. But the loud music pounding from it dimmed his hope, and as the car rounded the bend he recognized it as belonging to one of Victoria's friends.

Victoria hopped out of the car and waved to her friend as she continued through the turnaround and headed back down the driveway. "Hey," she said, her cheer fading as she took in the scene. "What's going on?"

"Mom's missing," Liam said.

Patrick corrected, "We've lost touch. She's not answering her phone."

Victoria frowned. "Maybe she forgot to charge it?"

"I hope so." She had a charger in her car, but maybe it wasn't working. Patrick could see that he wasn't any more convincing to his children than to himself, though. And why would she have left when she was supposed to be his backup? "Let's go inside and make some calls."

He herded the twins and Belle inside, relieving his fierce urge to get them to safety. Victoria dropped her bag on the stairs instead of going up to her room, betraying her anxiety, and Liam hovered at Patrick's elbow. "What can I do?"

"Can you do that phone finding thing on your mom's phone?" Patrick asked.

"I think so." Liam pulled out his phone and began working.

Victoria said, "Should I call Uncle Stan, get him to put out a bulletin or whatever?"

Patrick quickly tried to remember if there were businesses near the cafe that might have cameras. "Ask him if something's going on tonight." Maybe she'd been called away for an emergency and had her phone off? Was one of her agents in the hospital maybe?

Victoria turned away to focus on her phone, and Patrick pulled out his, which was still maddeningly free of messages. He pulled up Grace's number.

Belle began barking again, running to the front door, but they all ignored her, intent on their tasks. Patrick looked up as the front door opened, then ran to throw his arms around his wife.

He didn't realize she was on her phone until she said, "No, don't do that. I'll take care of it in the morning. Can I call you back in a few minutes? Yeah. Stand by." Her tone changed to annoyance. "Patrick, can you let me go?"

"Never," he muttered into her hair. He was dimly aware of the twins coming over to join the hug.

"What happened?" Teresa demanded.

"You left. And then you didn't answer your damn phone." Patrick stepped back as relief heated to anger.

"Something blew up at work," she replied, frowning. "I had to take the call. It was urgent."

"You should have let me know you were leaving."

Her expression darkened at his accusatory tone, and she glanced at the twins. "I was already on the call when I realized someone was watching you. They left, so I followed. I lost them on the interstate, but I got the plate. If you'll let me resume my call, I can find out who it was."

Patrick was still too angry to be sheepish, but the twins weren't having that problem. Liam said, "Glad you're okay. Did you get dinner?"

"Yeah, thanks, sweetie."

Victoria asked, "Someone was watching Dad? Or Brett?"

Teresa bit her lip. "They were there before your dad arrived, so probably Brett."

Victoria now looked angry. "We have to find out who it was!"

Teresa looked at Patrick, her eyes softening. "I'm sorry I scared you," she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

Patrick nodded, then turned and went to put the kettle on. He focused on calming himself down, not paying attention to the voices in the living room.

Maybe her leaving was a good thing. She would be out of whatever this was, and he wouldn't have to worry about her. Much.

He was pouring the water into his teacup when he heard Liam go upstairs, followed by his sister. A minute later, Teresa came into the kitchen. "Car was reported stolen earlier today. Dead end," she sighed. "How did your talk with Brett go?"

Patrick dunked his teabag the requisite number of times. "Inconclusive. But promising."

He could feel her annoyed look on his back, but he was still annoyed himself, so he didn't feel obligated to do anything about it.

"I'm sorry I didn't see your text," she said finally. "I should have known you'd overreact."

"I don't think my reaction was unreasonable," he objected.

She sighed. "Maybe not."

He turned to look at her, sipping his tea. "Teresa, you're going to be three thousand miles away. I need you not to ignore my calls."

"I won't. But you know perfectly well that sometimes I'm in the middle of something and it might take me a few minutes to get back to you. I couldn't text and drive and talk at the same time."

All very reasonable, and nothing he could argue with, so he sipped his tea again and remained silent.

Teresa waited for almost a full minute before she gave up. "I'm going upstairs. When you've calmed down enough to talk, we can pick this back up if you need to."

Patrick sat down at the table after she left, sipping his tea and listening to his family move around upstairs. The sheer normality of it reassured and calmed him, and when he finished his cup, he scooped some ice cream into a bowl, grabbed two spoons, and went upstairs.

Teresa was sorting a pile of books, but she stopped when he came in. "I am sorry I scared you," she said.

"And I'm sorry I gave you a poor welcome home," he replied, holding out the bowl.

She smiled and took it, settling on the foot of the bed. He sat beside her and handed her a spoon, then waited for her to take the first bite.

"I guess all this Visualize talk is making me a little hypersensitive," he offered.

"I know. And I'm sorry I didn't think about how you'd react. After all the times you've ditched me, I should know what it feels like."

"Then I'm really sorry for every time I did that to you," he said.

"Thank you. Can we put it behind us? We have a lot of other things to focus on."

"Yes. Let's make sure Stan knows about the car and someone watching Brett before we leave."

"Of course."

He gave her a chocolate-flavored kiss. "Welcome home, my dear. How was your day?"

"Horrible. Yours?"

"Better now that you're here." He smiled.

Teresa smiled back, then leaned over to kiss him. "Likewise."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Thanks for your patience with the pace of both this story and my posting it! I appreciate those of you still hanging in there!

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

Early Saturday morning, they all had breakfast together, a treat that Teresa appreciated all the more for knowing it would be rare in the future. While Patrick and the kids loaded their bags into the vehicles, Teresa took a minute to go say goodbye to Blueberry, then spend some time with Belle, whose tail was drooping as she realized she was being left behind.

"I'll send them back to you next weekend," Teresa promised her. "The pet sitter will be by twice a day to take care of you in the meantime. Okay? Be good. Look after them for me."

Belle whined as Teresa stood up, leaning hard against her leg. Teresa bit her lip and blinked hard. She was not going to cry over leaving the dog, for heaven's sake. "I'll see you soon," she promised as she opened the front door, but Belle's sad demeanor only intensified.

With a deep breath, Teresa took stock of the situation in the driveway. Liam had already claimed the shotgun seat in the rented moving truck, leaving Victoria standing hopefully by the driver's door of the Mustang.

What the hell, Teresa thought. She didn't have much time left for mother-daughter bonding. "Ready?" she asked, tossing her the keys.

"Absolutely," Victoria beamed.

Patrick finished latching the truck's loading door and came over to them. "We'll be right behind you," he said.

"Try to keep up," Victoria teased, sliding into the car and closing the door.

He turned to Teresa. "All set?"

"Yes." She took one last look around, making sure everything was as it should be. This wasn't her last moment in the home they'd made, she reminded herself. She'd be back for visits.

"No need to be sad," Patrick murmured, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "We aren't losing a home. We're getting a second one, that's all."

"I know," she said, swallowing.

"Remember the first time we saw this place?" he asked.

She smiled. "Victoria was so excited. She ran straight to the barn, and you had to chase her to make sure it was safe."

He nodded. "And Liam was afraid there were wild animals everywhere who would eat him and Belle, but he wouldn't admit it."

"And now they're almost grown."

"It seems impossible, doesn't it? Like we just moved in last week." Patrick shook his head. "It's good to make a fresh start. We won't feel our nest is so empty in the condo."

"I've worried I'm being selfish taking this new job when the kids need our attention and you want me to retire," she admitted.

Patrick kissed her temple. "There's not a selfish bone in your body, Teresa. This is your time. The rest of us will be fine. Go do what you want to do. We'll be with you every step of the way."

"You better be," she replied, turning to kiss him. He deepened it beyond her original intent, and they lost themselves in it for a glorious minute until Liam honked the truck's horn. They grinned at each other as they parted. "Better get going," Teresa said.

"See you at the next stop," Patrick agreed, heading over to the truck and climbing behind the wheel.

With Teresa and Victoria leading the way, they drove to I-80 and headed east.

mmm

Teresa enjoyed the trip much more than she thought she would. It was rare to have long stretches of uninterrupted time with her children one-on-one, but as they rotated drivers and passengers she gained a depth of knowledge she'd been missing about Victoria's college decision-making process and Liam's thoughts about when to relocate. She detected Patrick's hand in both, but that was to be expected.

On the morning of their second day on the road, she was surprised when Patrick got into her passenger seat. "You're letting the kids drive the truck?"

"They both did fine yesterday. They're fully licensed drivers; they don't need me. Besides, this is like old times," he replied, doing up his seatbelt.

She glanced out her window to see Liam in the truck's driver's seat. "How did they decide who goes first?"

"I flipped a coin," Patrick chuckled. "Best two out of three. We need to make sure we stop precisely every three hours so they can switch."

She grinned. "You're in charge of that, then." She started the car.

"That thing's no fun to drive, but it's a new experience for them. Reminds me of the trucks and campers I learned to drive when I was their age."

"I guess the closest I got was that van we drove around in the early days at CBI," Teresa said, pulling onto the street and checking her rear view to make sure Liam handled the turn okay. "I'd prefer if you were behind the wheel when we get to DC, though."

"Agreed. We'll introduce them to urban traffic gradually."

"So," Teresa said after they were on the interstate, "Liam says he's going to look for a job while he's checking out the music scene, maybe even take some community college courses this fall."

"He's always been a sensible kid."

"He says he'll never make friends sitting at home."

"True."

Patrick was being obtuse, which was usually on purpose, she thought. "He's worried about what you're going to do with yourself all day once Victoria's at school."

"Ah. I've been pondering that myself."

"And?"

He shrugged. "There are plenty of options. I could write a bestselling novel about a team of intrepid crime fighters chasing a serial killer with the help of their genius consultant, for instance."

"Bestselling, huh?"

"Of course. With my extensive knowledge of human nature, I'm sure it won't be difficult."

"You could teach classes at the FBI Academy," she suggested.

"I could," he agreed easily. "I'm sure the new recruits would benefit from my insights. But I doubt that would amuse me much."

"Whereas sitting by yourself all day writing a novel will?"

"That's only part of it," he replied. "Then there's negotiating with a publisher and of course the publicity tour, which I hope you'd join me for parts of. I'd introduce you as my muse."

Teresa was a little alarmed at that plan, which would doubtless provide amusement for him at her expense. "Right."

"But you are my muse, my dear. All the good things in my life have been created or inspired by you."

She smiled at him. "Flatterer. That's still not going to get me on the talk show circuit telling twenty-something blondes how clever you are."

"Ah yes, I see your concern. The fame and fortune might go to my head and tempt me to trade my loyal, loving, and heavily armed wife in for a young thing with only her looks to recommend her." Patrick rolled his eyes.

"Remember the heavily armed part. Nobody knows how to hide a body better than a homicide detective," she reminded him, trying to hide her grin.

"I'm aware," he assured her.

They were silent for a couple of miles, until Patrick said, "Don't worry, Teresa. I'm not going to turn into a grumpy old man chasing young whippersnappers off my lawn."

"Not that we have a lawn in DC."

"You take my point. I'll find something to occupy my time."

Teresa bit her lip. "You could come work with me and Cho."

"I could," he said in an even tone she couldn't read. "But you surely remember why we stopped working together."

"Because you hated Hightower punishing me for your misdeeds. That won't happen in this new job."

"They weren't misdeeds, merely decisions she disagreed with," Patrick said. "But that was only part of the reason. It was mostly because you got so angry when I extracted you from that hostage situation at the hospital. You were furious that I'd risked orphaning our children. Remember?"

She wasn't likely to forget. "Yes."

"Neither my methods nor my priorities have changed. Have yours?"

"No," she said slowly.

"Then our working together again would only result, eventually, in your being furious with me again. Or, alternatively, in our children finding themselves orphans, though much closer to adulthood than the last time you worried about it."

She sighed. "You're right. I just...we worked so well together. And you made it fun, despite all the horrible things we dealt with."

"And sometimes you get nostalgic," he said. Glancing at him, she saw his gentle, affectionate smile. "But nostalgia isn't reality, my dear. I made you very angry and caused you many difficulties on a regular basis. I would be reluctant to bring that back into our lives. I don't want it to be part of our marriage."

"And I wouldn't be able to leave work at work," she sighed, remembering the times she'd tried and failed.

"No," he agreed.

"But this new job wouldn't be in the field as much. Fewer bigwigs to poke."

Patrick laughed. Even after all these years, she still marveled sometimes at how far he'd come from the man she'd met, who seemed to have lost laughter along with his family. "Fewer bigwigs at FBI Headquarters? Seriously?"

"Fewer bigwigs you'd be vetting as suspects," she clarified.

"Still. The level of pomposity in Washington is sure to keep me looking for ways to deflate egos."

She sighed. "If you don't want to, just say so."

He was silent for a moment. "It's not about not wanting to. I do. I enjoyed working with you, and I will need something to keep my mind sharp once the kids are independent. Plus, once our daily lives are no longer centered on raising our family, it would be helpful for us to have something else in common to talk about over dinner."

Teresa waited for him to continue, but gave up after a few minutes. "You sound like you're worried your choice is going to affect our marriage."

"I suppose I am. We're about to navigate a major life change. Two, in fact. Our individual stress levels will lead to heightened stress in our relationship."

She rolled her eyes. "More than being stalked by a serial killer?"

"Good point."

"See, this is what I'm talking about," she said. "When you don't have enough to do, you brood. And you have an obsessive personality. If you're not facing any real problems, you blow something out of proportion by dwelling on it. So instead of objectively evaluating our relationship, you turn us into a cliche: the couple who wanders around their empty nest and discovers they have nothing in common."

"We don't have a single hobby in common," he pointed out. "Anyway, aren't you doing the same? You're the one trying to give us a job in common."

Maybe she was, she thought. Was she afraid their marriage would disintegrate without the children to bind them? Despite their long history before they'd had children? "Is that why you want us to travel? To keep us from getting bored, or something?"

"I want us to travel so I can have you to myself," Patrick replied. Then he paused, as if he'd surprised himself.

That was probably the truest thing he'd said in a while, she thought. He'd shared her with the kids and the job for a long time. They'd been married less than a year when the twins were born, and though her job was not more important to her than he was, he probably didn't believe that. And she couldn't really blame him. "Do you want me to promise this will be my last job?" she offered.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," Patrick said evenly. "I can always take Liam to Kenya. He'd enjoy it more anyway."

That was true too. "You should. It'll be a while before I can take substantial time off. But let's plan a nice trip for next year, okay?"

"Okay."

She glanced over at him. He was looking out the window, a neutral expression on his face, which meant he was hiding his feelings from her. She had a hollow feeling in her stomach as she wondered if she was calling all the shots. That wasn't healthy for their marriage. She needed to give him what he wanted, too. "Meanwhile maybe we can take some overnights, explore the area around Washington? The mountains are supposed to be beautiful. And there are a lot of beaches an easy drive away."

He turned back to her with a smile. "I'd like that."

And she would stop encouraging him to come work with her, she resolved. If he wanted to, he'd make it happen.

A change of topic might be good, she decided. "So you took a lot of road trips as a kid. Bringing back memories?"

"A little. Traveling with a carnival is a lot different from this. What about you?"

She shook her head. "We didn't really go on vacations when I was growing up. The only long distance driving I did was going out to California to college." There was the same uncertainty and guilt mixed in with her excitement, too. Leaving her brothers hadn't been easy. At least Patrick and the twins were only being left behind temporarily, and there'd be a lot more communication. No worries about long distance phone bills, for one thing.

"A fortuitous trip for those of us in your future," he remarked.

He was trying to remind her that they'd never have met if she hadn't taken that earlier trip, she knew. And that similar good things might await at the end of this one.

"Of course, I was by myself then," she said. "Whereas now I have my witty and entertaining husband to treat me to his road trip soliloquies."

Patrick chuckled. "Is that what you called my attempts to fill the silence after we reached an impasse on a case?"

"I couldn't think what else to call them. Where else would I have learned about the history of asphalt? Or trivia about the local flora and fauna?"

"I hate to tell you this, my dear, but I'm afraid I've just about exhausted my knowledge of trivia, as you call it, over the years we've known each other."

"Nonsense. I bet you've read about the states we're crossing and are just dying to tell me how Iowa got its name." She knew he'd traveled the Midwest carnival circuit as a boy, and he would have soaked up knowledge like that. He didn't like to talk about his childhood, but it would all still be there.

"The name was derived from the Ioway, one of the native peoples when the Europeans got there. There are 99 counties but 100 county seats," Patrick relented.

"Really? How does that work?"

"Lee County has two. Don't ask me why."

Teresa smiled. "See? I knew it."

"Did your brothers give you any trouble about only staying one day?"

"Yeah, but I promised to buy dinner for the whole crowd."

Patrick laughed. "And to think you used to lecture me about wasting money. Between your brothers, their spouses, their kids, their spouses, and their kids, that's what, 30 people? No doubt at a fancy restaurant, too."

"No. I want my Italian beef," she replied, which made him laugh even harder.

mmm

After three long days on the road, they reached Chicago Monday night and met up with the Lisbons. They rested and enjoyed Chicago on Tuesday, then drove a long stretch on Wednesday, stopping in Frederick, Maryland, that night so they could approach the DC area in daylight.

Patrick had been increasingly clingy each night of the trip, but on this last night, Teresa woke several times wanting to roll over but unable to because her husband had wrapped himself around her. She told herself firmly that she should appreciate her time with him, since that would soon be in short supply, but as the night wore on she grew more frustrated. Around 2 a.m., she finally wrestled free and went to the bathroom, hoping a chance to breathe freely and cool down, literally as well as metaphorically, would enable her to climb back into bed and get some more sleep.

But she detoured by the window when she went back, glancing outside at the unfamiliar view, so different from the one she was used to. And soon she'd be used to the urban view from the condo. She was excited to go back to city life and a job working cases instead of supervising people who did, but she didn't need the octopus act to know Patrick was dreading the next few months. He wasn't good at change, and he wasn't good at being alone. She needed to make it a priority to reach out to him while they were apart.

Guilt sent her back to bed as Patrick rolled over, reaching out into the empty space beside him and making an unhappy sound. She was careful not to wake him as she settled beside him, kissing his cheek and wrapping her arms around him. Maybe he wouldn't feel the need to cling if she was the one doing the holding.

He sighed against her hair and stilled, comforted. Teresa smiled. There was a lesson here she wouldn't forget.

mmm

They had a leisurely breakfast the next morning, waiting for the metro area rush hour to subside before approaching. Patrick drove the truck, but Teresa took a deep breath and let Liam drive her car. He'd need to get used to driving in the area, and better he have his first experience while she could supervise.

At last they reached the condo, and the rest of the morning was a blur of activity as they emptied the truck so it could be returned. Patrick and Liam went to turn it in while Victoria and Teresa unpacked some dishes and went to choose a take-out lunch. Cho, who'd been in a few times to accept furniture deliveries, had made sure there was coffee and tea, which they'd all greatly appreciated during the box-carrying breaks, but Patrick would want to do the first big grocery shopping trip.

As they set food out so they could eat as soon as the guys arrived, Victoria remarked, "I like this area."

"Good," Teresa replied. "I hope you'll want to come visit as much as possible."

"I know Dad wants to move here as soon as school's out. He'll probably be pretty miserable by then," Victoria predicted.

With a pang, Teresa said, "Well, I hope not."

"Oh please. He'll be all broody and weird, like he always is if you're gone more than a couple of days. Anyway, what I'm saying is, that's not how I want to spend my summer. So as soon as we can get Blueberry and Lady taken care of, I don't mind if we move here."

Teresa tried to conceal her surprise. "Won't you miss Brett?"

"Yeah, but we can v-chat and stuff. Besides, we'll both be busy. He's going to some wilderness camp in July, and Dad was talking about taking us hiking in Yellowstone after graduation."

Teresa had been spotting Jane half-truths for much longer than Victoria had been alive, so she had no trouble seeing through her daughter's nonchalance. "I'm glad to hear you say that. I'll miss you guys, so the sooner you come out here, the better."

"I wish we had a guest room though. 'Cause it would be cool if some of my friends could come visit."

"I'm sure we can figure something out. The couch is comfortable enough to sleep on, since your dad was the one who bought it." A thought occurred to her. "So if any of your friends are looking at colleges in the area, they're welcome to crash on the couch for a few days."

"Great. I'll let them know," Victoria said.

Teresa smiled into the bag she was unloading. If having Brett Mason camped on her couch was the price she had to pay to have her family with her, she'd gladly agree.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry about the delay in this story! Hopefully there are still some of you who remember it. My real life should be a little quieter the next couple weeks so I'm hoping to get the next chapter out quicker, as well as the conclusion of Victimology. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

Patrick was tired and a little frustrated by the length of time it had taken to return the rental truck and then drive back to the condo in the car Liam had followed him in. Apparently rush hour in DC was like morning sickness: not actually confined to any one time of day.

But when he walked in the door to the delicious smells of Indian food and an unexpected but very welcome hug and kiss from his wife, he immediately cheered up.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Right as rain," he replied. "The traffic will take some getting used to."

"It can't be worse than L.A.," she chuckled.

"True. But it's been a long time since I had to drive there regularly."

Liam seated himself at the table and dug into his food. "We had plenty of time to admire the scenery."

"And by scenery, he means the parts of the city where no tourists go," Patrick clarified. The rental place was in an area of town he wouldn't care to have his children go at night.

"A walk on the wild side, huh?" Victoria rolled her eyes, obviously unable to imagine her father doing any such thing.

Someday he was going to enjoy telling her a few tales from his misspent youth, but not until she was safely past the age where she might emulate—or heaven forbid, try to outdo—them, Patrick thought. He glanced at Teresa, who smirked at him.

As they sat down at the modernist dining table, so different from the big rustic one at the farm, Patrick thought this was like a vacation, all four of them together with no external demands on their time. He was never more content than when he had his family all within sight, happy and safe. And though he knew it wasn't forever, at least it was for today. He was grateful.

Teresa smiled across the table at him. "This is nice," she said. "I'm so glad we're doing this together."

"The four musketeers," Liam grinned.

"You bet," she replied, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "I don't report to work until Monday, so we have three days together before you all fly back Sunday. Let's have some fun after we get the necessities unpacked."

"Fun?" He cocked his head. "What is this fun of which you speak?"

"Ha, ha," Teresa replied, tearing off a piece of garlic naan bread to dip in the sauce of her chicken tikka masala.

"Well," Victoria said, "it's not wandering around a stuffy old museum, that's for sure."

Patrick smiled, amused at his family's affectionate bickering. "I'm sure somewhere in this city is an activity we'd all enjoy. But first we need to get the new bedding washed so we have somewhere to sleep and some dishes unpacked so we have something to eat with. And groceries, but I'll take care of that."

"I'll do the dishes," Victoria said. She hated laundry.

Liam said, "I can wash stuff. That way Mom can unpack her bags."

"Thanks, all of you," Teresa said.

Patrick nodded. He knew she didn't care if she lived amid piles of unopened boxes, but it would drive him crazy. He wouldn't get a wink of sleep if the bedroom, at least, wasn't unpacked and minimally decorated.

"After lunch I'll find the nearest grocery store and get us stocked up. Unpacking is hungry work. Any requests?"

He smiled as they began listing their favorites.

mmm

Patrick was elated to find a Whole Foods only three blocks away, and he spent a pleasant hour working through his mental shopping list, as well as picking up a few impulse items. He planned to invite Cho and Leila for dinner on Friday, in hopes of establishing a new tradition that would ensure Teresa had dinner companions when he and the kids were in California.

On his way out of the store, he saw a flyer for a jazz concert at a nearby park that night, solving the problem of finding a fun activity to cap off the day. Everything was working out, at least in the short term. He flinched away from thinking about Sunday and the days afterward. He wouldn't let dread rob him of two and a half wonderful days with his family.

He returned to a home still taking shape, but unmistakably inhabited by his children. Liam had taken charge of wall hangings and photo placement, while Victoria had scattered knickknacks around the living room. Teresa was unpacking in the bedroom, and Patrick was pleased to find the kitchen untouched, except for a dishwasher full of clean things waiting for him to choose their new rightful places.

By dinner time, the kitchen was in working order, everyone had clean bedding and a few things hung in their closets, and Patrick cooked the first meal in the new kitchen. It was less spacious than the one at the farmhouse, but in some ways that made things easier. As they settled at the dining table and Teresa said a short prayer over the meal, he was tired but happy.

It was a beautiful spring evening, and the neighborhood park was crowded. Patrick made a note to buy some camp chairs for next time, as their view from the blanket was somewhat obstructed. But that didn't impair their enjoyment of the music. Teresa and Liam were entranced, and Victoria enjoyed herself taking in the crowd around them.

They were all tired by the time they got back to the condo, and they said their goodnights and went to their respective rooms. Patrick got into his pajamas and then went to double check the locks on the front door while Teresa went about her bedtime bathroom routine. It was strange to have only one door to check; they were on the ninth floor, so he wasn't worried about the windows.

As he turned away from the front door, the view from the living room caught his eye, and he went over to admire it. A few minutes later, Teresa joined him, sliding an arm around his waist. He smiled as he smelled her moisturizer and lotion, which he associated with the warm comfort of her arms. "I thought you were going to steal my pajama top to sleep in," he said, eyeing the ivory lace nightgown with appreciation.

"Only after you sleep in it first," she clarified.

"Special occasion, hm?" He put an arm around her shoulders and slid a finger under the thin strap of the nightgown, which he remembered from their anniversary.

"First night in our new place. I thought we should observe the occasion."

He chuckled. "Start a new tradition, you mean?" They'd emphatically not been having sex when they'd moved into their Sacramento apartment, since part of his punishment for embarrassing her with Bertram had been abstaining until their wedding night. And their first few nights at the farm had seen too much traffic to think about sex, as the kids and dog adjusted to all the new noises in the countryside.

"Third time's the charm," she smiled. "Have I mentioned how much I like the layout of this place?"

"You mean the master bedroom being on the other side of the unit from the other two bedrooms?" he said. "I hadn't noticed until now. What a happy accident."

She snorted. "Really? The mentalist didn't analyze every pro and con of this layout before you even set foot in it?"

Grinning, he gave in. "I may have only looked at units with this type of floor plan."

She kissed his cheek. "Don't think I don't know how hard that was for you."

Patrick shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "They're not children anymore. And I have to get used to not hearing every sound they make."

"Yes, we do. So thank you." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Shall we?"

He squeezed back, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotion as he looked at her. He loved it when she saw through his mask and spotted his weaknesses, but only loved him more for them. "I am entirely at your disposal, love."

She gave him a satisfyingly salacious grin. "Good thing I packed my handcuffs."

Patrick burst out laughing, but when she tugged on his hand, he went willingly.

mmm

There were no handcuffs involved, but it was a memorable night nonetheless. They wore each other out enough that by the time they woke and emerged from their room, Liam was munching on peanut butter toast and Victoria was making an omelette while they both watched something on a tablet. Patrick decided he should make the TV a priority for today; the Internet service had been turned on a few days earlier so it should be pretty straightforward.

Checking his messages, he found a text from Cho. "Cho's coming for dinner, but Leila has to work."

Teresa said, "That's too bad, but I'm glad he's coming. Hey, will you make something I can reheat to serve the team next week? I'd like to have everyone over so we can get to know each other."

"Of course." Patrick smiled. "You've come a long way from the young 'we don't talk about our personal lives on this unit' Agent Lisbon I first met."

"Since four-fifths of that unit ended up married to each other, I've rethought my approach," she replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot Liam had brewed.

"Wise," he said, making a cup of tea. "Well, what shall we do with our Friday until it's time to welcome our guest? I'd like to go pick up some housecleaning supplies and maybe a couple of area rugs."

"Do you have time to go dress shopping with me? Uncle Cho helped me pick out some possibilities but I'd like your opinion," Victoria said.

"Of course." Patrick had no intention of missing out on the prom milestone. "Liam, do you need a tux?"

"Yeah, but I'll just rent one in Sacramento. I'll stay home and help Mom. Maybe set up the TV so we can catch a game or something."

"Sounds good. If we're not back for lunch, there's supplies for sandwiches and salads. What would you like for breakfast, Teresa?"

"That omelette smells good," she responded.

"Omelettes it is."

mmm

In the elevator, Patrick surveyed the dress bag and half a dozen shopping bags he and Victoria had accumulated and felt a twinge of dread at Teresa's reaction. At least he could hope she wouldn't have any idea how much they'd actually spent.

Victoria looked tired but happy, so whatever flak he encountered was worth it. Besides, he realized as he punched in the security code to open their door, Teresa was busy. He could hear her and Liam yelling at the TV, so obviously they'd found a game to watch. The smell of popcorn when he opened the door confirmed it. Maybe Victoria could sneak into her room unnoticed.

"Look what I got!" she announced as she entered the living room, holding up the bags she was carrying.

Teresa did a double take. "Did you leave anything in the store?"

Patrick set down the large bag he was carrying. "I bought a Roomba," he announced. "It can vacuum while you're at work."

Teresa refused to be diverted, getting up off the couch. Liam, sensing better entertainment, turned off the TV and turned to look as his mother began inspecting the bags. She looked in the dress bag first, fingering the ice blue fabric thoughtfully.

"Wait til you see it on," Victoria said.

"This isn't one we looked at last time, is it?"

"Yes, but they only had it in ivory then," Victoria assured her. "And I found the perfect shoes, too!"

"What's all the rest of it?" Teresa asked, glancing at Patrick.

"Accessories," he answered as she reached the bag from Swarovski. "Plus a gift for my lovely wife."

"Bribery, huh?" she muttered, but she didn't look angry. "Which one is mine?"

"Greedy," Patrick chuckled, snatching the bag away. "You'll get it when the time is right."

"Anything for me?" Liam asked, coming over.

Patrick handed him the Roomba bag. "I brought you this fascinating engineering project. Get it running and you can have your favorite dessert."

"How much?" Teresa asked, sounding more resigned than annoyed.

"Just enough," he replied. She could check his credit card statement if she really wanted to know, after all. "Cho will be here in half an hour, so I'm going to get dinner started. Princess, why don't you put all that away so we make sure it gets on the plane with us?"

"Dad took pictures in the store," she told Teresa, pulling out her phone and beginning to show her.

Patrick went into the kitchen as Liam settled on the living room floor with the vacuum box. That had gone better than he expected.

When things were safely underway, Teresa wandered in, picking up an hors d'oeuvre. "Smells great," she said as she munched.

"Thanks. Want some wine?"

"No thanks, I'll wait for dinner." She started opening cupboards, apparently to see what was in them.

Patrick recognized this particular interrogation technique. "We can afford it," he reminded her.

"Oh, I know." She found a glass and filled it from the filter pitcher in the refrigerator.

"She'll only have one senior prom. And I'll be every bit as generous with Liam."

"I never doubted it," she replied, turning to face him as she sipped.

Patrick frowned a little as he tried to read her. "Are you really not mad, or just waiting until after dinner?"

Teresa smiled. "Why should I be mad? It's not a surprise to me that you spent a horrifying amount of money on our daughter's prom dress and accessories. I'm glad you both got what you wanted."

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

She chuckled, then stepped close and laid a hand on his cheek. "You don't think I was expecting this?" She sobered. "Every milestone she's reached since kindergarten has made you think of Charlotte and all the things she never got to do. You have two daughters, but you only get to buy one of them a prom dress. Of course you went all out."

Patrick felt his heart constrict as he realized she was right. Of course he'd thought of Charlotte today, but he hadn't consciously splurged because of her.

"I understand, Patrick. I always have. I'll just consider myself lucky if she lives in a dorm instead of you buying her a house with 30 acres for Lady."

His voice was a little hoarse as he said, "Don't worry, I won't do that. And have I told you I love you today?"

"Yes, but it bears repeating," she said, leaning up to kiss him. He put his arms around her and held her tightly, grateful beyond words for her loving understanding.

They stayed like that until the doorbell rang, and then Teresa went to answer it. "Cho! Come in."

"Like what you've done with the place," he said, glancing around before Victoria threw her arms around him.

"Uncle Cho, we got my dress! We found it in blue. And Dad got me this amazing necklace. I can't wait for you to see. How have you been?"

He smiled at her. "Doing great. I assume you have pictures? Hey, Liam. I can get tickets for a Wizards game tomorrow if you two are interested."

"Basketball? Sure, thanks," Liam replied.

"Sounds like fun," Victoria agreed.

Patrick started to protest at having their last night together commandeered, but then he realized there was something to be said for having an evening alone with Teresa while the kids bonded with Cho.

"Something smells great," Cho said to Patrick.

"Your favorite," Patrick assured him. "Come in and have a seat."

They chatted over appetizers, then dug into the main course. Cho waited until dessert to ask, "So. What's going on with your case? Any new leads?"

Patrick shook his head. "The most likely vehicle for the hit and run was reported stolen. We couldn't find video footage of any suspicious activity around the kids' car, either. Everything came up a dead end. Same with the person following Brett."

"Someone's good at covering their tracks," Cho frowned. "Probably not amateurs then."

Liam said, "Nobody at school seems to know anything, either."

"Brett says he hasn't noticed anything weird," Victoria reported.

"So what's the next move?" Cho asked.

"Wait and see," Patrick shrugged.

"Really?" Cho looked closely at him. "You don't have a play in mind?"

"I've been a little busy," he pointed out.

Cho and Teresa glanced at each other, which made Patrick a bit nostalgic. "I'm sure I'll come up with something," he added.

"You got backup?" Cho asked pointedly.

"Stan Moore still comes when I call, as long as I feed him," Patrick replied. "No need to worry, my friend. I won't put my kids at risk."

Cho nodded, satisfied. "How often are you planning to come out?"

"Not every weekend while the kids are in school. Every other, maybe. It depends on how often Teresa can come home."

"I'm planning to stay here next weekend and go home the one after," Teresa said. "Once I'm settled into the job."

"Good. Come over for dinner anytime."

"Thanks. I'll take you up on that. And I'm hoping to have the team over one night. Patrick promised to leave me well stocked," Teresa smiled.

Patrick said, "And so I shall."

mmm

He spent most of Saturday cooking and stocking away nutritious dishes, mostly in single serving containers but also some larger dishes for when Teresa chose to have people over. Teresa and the twins went to explore the city together, getting in some quality time while they could. They were scheduled to meet Cho and Leila near the arena, where Teresa would leave the twins with them for dinner and the game and come home for date night. Patrick decided to stay in rather than sample any of the city's cultural offerings; she would be tired, and he wanted to make more good memories in their new home.

With that in mind, he took extra pains with the table, leaving briefly to find a flower stand and a home decor shop where he found nice table linens and a vase. Teresa's tastes were simple and straightforward, so he cooked a pot roast with vegetables to serve with the robust red wine he'd bought. It would also go nicely with the dark chocolate cake and raspberry sauce for dessert.

While he had the place to himself, he also wrote little notes and hid them for her to find later, reminding her she was not only loved, but adored. He tucked an origami swan into her briefcase for her first day at work and a family photo into her bible, knowing she'd go to church after they all left tomorrow. He also set out the elegant crystal picture frame he'd gotten her and put her favorite of their formal family portraits in it on her nightstand.

When the stage was properly set, he put on a dark blue three-piece suit with a light blue shirt, artfully messed up his hair, and put on some cologne. She liked him best this way, from a purely aesthetic point of view.

He expected she'd run a bit late, chatting with Cho and Leila and reluctant to leave her children on their last evening together for a while. But she arrived a few minutes early instead. She paused on the threshold, taking him in appreciatively. "Should I put on a dress?"

"You are perfect as you are, my dear," he replied, moving forward to give her a kiss. "But dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes if you want to relax for a while. I can pour you a glass of wine."

"That sounds great. Are you all checked in for your flight?"

"We're all set," Patrick replied. "The kids will need to pack in the morning, but everything else is done. No need to worry."

She sighed. "I'm more worried about me, to be honest."

"We'll say goodbye here. There won't be room in the cab for all four of us anyway." He'd given tomorrow a lot of thought. "Then you can head to church or back to bed. I have breakfast all set up so we can eat together before we go."

"I could drive you to the airport," she protested.

He shook his head. "Then you'd have to drive back on your own and upset. Let's make it easier on everyone and not say goodbye in a loading zone, okay?"

She knew he was right but didn't want to admit it, so he turned to pour two glasses of wine. "And now that we've settled the logistics, let's enjoy date night, shall we?"

Her smile was mournful. "I wish I could promise to come home next weekend."

"You don't need to apologize for staying here, Teresa. Adjusting to a new job takes a lot of energy. You'll be home the weekend after, and we'll figure out a schedule after that."

"Do the kids understand?" She bit her lip as she took her wine glass.

"Of course. They're going to be so busy they'll hardly have time to miss you," he assured her. "And I'll have plenty to keep me out of trouble as well. Besides, we'll talk every day. You don't have to wonder how we're doing. You'll be able to tell."

That reassured her, and she hugged him tightly.

He took a deep breath, memorizing her scent. "Though that doesn't stop me from fantasizing about staying here and homeschooling the kids for the next couple of months."

She chuckled, pulling back to look at him. "You've come up with some crazy plans in your time, but that one might take the cake."

He smiled. "I'm afraid you're right. And speaking of my brilliantly unconventional plans, you know you can call me if you need one, right? Just because I'm not consulting for the FBI anymore doesn't mean I won't consult for you. My security clearance is still good for another year; I checked."

She beamed at him. "Thank you. I think my out-of-the-box thinking has come a long way since we met, but I'm glad you won't mind a little shop talk now and then."

"Of course not. I'm curious about this new team Abbott thinks is going to solve all our national security problems." And he wanted to have a sense of how much field work she would end up doing. He'd be evaluating her level of risk as well as how interesting the cases were, in case he needed more than a hobby or felt he needed to personally ensure her safety.

"We'll do our best," Teresa said.

"I know. Our national security couldn't be in better hands." He went back to the kitchen to check on things as the timer dinged.

"I'm going to change," she called, heading for the bedroom.

A few minutes later, she emerged in tight black jeans and a shape-hugging emerald blouse he loved. He felt a thrill of nostalgia and arousal run through him as she sipped from her wine glass and gave him a knowing look over the rim. For a moment he felt as though the past 18 years hadn't changed them at all—they were still the fiercely independent crime fighter and lone wolf consultant who hadn't wanted to like each other when they met, but had anyway. But of course they had changed and healed throughout the years, even before they became a couple.

"Let's focus on us tonight," he suggested. "Our future after the kids are out on their own." He wanted to spend the evening dwelling on their long-term happiness, not their short-term unhappiness.

"What do you have in mind? Besides traveling around the world?"

"Maybe a vacation house on the ocean. I'm open to any and all suggestions. Let's agree that everything's on the table to start with: sailing around the world, beekeeping, whatever."

"Beekeeping? And you know I get seasick," she said incredulously.

"Okay, those two are off the table. But we still have almost infinite possibilities to choose from," he replied.

She shook her head. "Fine. Let's build some castles in the air, then."

mmm

They did just that over dinner and dessert. Patrick made sure to keep things lighthearted, and they were laughingly discussing the idea of running a boutique resort on a small tropical island (she'd provide security while he was in charge of hospitality) when the twins got home. After hearing about the game, Patrick said, "Okay, time to go pack. Anything you leave here, you won't see for at least two weeks."

Teresa added, "But whatever you want to leave here, you can. This is your home too. If you want anything washed, make sure it gets into your hamper."

"Thanks, Mom," Liam said, heading for his room.

"See you in the morning," Victoria added as she followed.

"We should think about bed too," Teresa said, turning to Patrick. "Want help cleaning up?"

"I'd like that. And I can give you an introduction to your new kitchen while we're at it."

"It's not that big. I think I can find my way around," she replied. "You just don't want me rearranging anything."

"Not accidentally, anyway," he teased.

They spent a pleasant half hour or so cleaning up and bickering playfully over the placement of various items, then went to look in on Liam and Victoria. Liam had finished packing and was checking their flight status when they knocked on his door. "Looks like good flying weather," he told Patrick.

"Good," Teresa said. "Your dad wants to take a cab to the airport and have us all say goodbye here. Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah." Liam looked sad. "I guess so."

Patrick said, "After a nice breakfast, of course. We'll be eating lunch on the plane. But we'll be home for dinner."

"Belle will be glad to see us," Liam remarked.

"Yes, she will," Teresa smiled. "Well, try to get a good night's sleep."

Liam got up and came over to hug her. "Goodnight, Mom. Love you."

"Love you too," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly.

Patrick swallowed hard, his heart aching. A flash of memory came to him from Liam's birth: the nurse hurrying away with him to the NICU and Teresa urging him to follow, terrified by her nightmares of having the babies taken away from her. It had never been easy for her to be away from them.

"I'm really proud of you," Liam said in a rush, his voice thickening.

Teresa drew in a watery breath and held onto him for a few more seconds before he pulled away, turning toward his bed to hide his tears. They left him, knowing he needed time alone to process his emotions, and paused in the hall to compose themselves before knocking on Victoria's door.

She was on her cell phone, but when they came in she said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay, Brett? Good night. Yeah. Night."

"How are things with the Masons?" Patrick asked as she hung up.

"Okay. Normal," she replied.

Teresa asked, "Have you packed yet?"

"No, but it'll just take a minute. I'm leaving a lot here to make room for my prom outfit. I have plenty of other clothes at home."

"True," Teresa smiled. "Good night, sweetie."

Victoria jumped up and gave them both big hugs. "Night, Mom and Dad. See you in the morning."

"Sleep tight," Teresa told her as they left.

When they were safely in their room with the door closed, they held onto each other for a minute, Patrick swaying them back and forth gently. "It's going to be all right," he murmured into her hair.

"I know," she whispered.

mmm

Patrick did his best to keep things moving the next morning to avoid thinking about the goodbye to come, but everyone was subdued and a little touchy at breakfast, and they ended up not talking much. He was almost relieved when it was time to go downstairs to meet the car service.

"I'm coming down," Teresa declared, in the tone that meant she would brook no opposition. "Here, let me take your carry-on, Victoria."

They got themselves and the luggage into the elevator, uncharacteristically silent on the ride down. Patrick helped the driver load everything, trying not to watch Teresa and the twins say goodbye. When they finished, Victoria and Liam were climbing into the back seat, wiping surreptitiously at their eyes, and Teresa was sniffling a little as Patrick hugged her. "I love you," he whispered, his throat closing with emotion.

"Love you too," she whispered. "Call me when you get home."

"Of course. I'll text you when we land so you don't have to worry," he told her. Reluctantly, he stepped back. "We're always with you, Teresa. And you're always with us."

"I know." She nodded, trying to smile as she wiped at her eyes. "Go on. You'll miss your flight."

There was no danger of that, but he knew it was better not to draw things out. So he leaned forward to kiss her gently, a little surprised when she threw her arms around him and deepened it. She was the one to pull away first, stepping back and choking out, "Go."

"Stay," he tried to joke, managing a smile as he got into the front seat of the car.

As they pulled away, Patrick turned to wave at Teresa, and so did the twins. Teresa waved back, and he continued looking over his shoulder until she was out of sight. Then he faced forward, letting out a long breath and trying to calm himself.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder and lifted his own to cover it, squeezing to let Victoria know he appreciated her attempt to comfort him.

It was going to be a long two weeks.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** No, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Things have just been a little crazy for the past month or so. Hopefully I'll have more writing time now, because the world of The Mentalist, even a non-canon one like this, is my happy place and I've needed it lately. If you're still reading, thank you! My happy place would be lonely without you.

I should also add that I don't know much about competitive equestrian events or medicine, so please bear with me.

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

Teresa looked eagerly around the airport despite her exhaustion. They'd wrapped their case a day early, so she'd caught a Friday morning flight to Sacramento. The kids would be in school, but she'd have some time with Patrick, which she was craving. She couldn't wait. Two weeks had felt like months.

"Teresa!" Patrick was beaming as he waved at her from outside the security area, practically bouncing on his heels like a boy.

She felt an answering smile stretch her cheeks, and she had to restrain herself from running into his arms. She did walk fast, though, dropping her bag to the floor as she reached to hug him.

Patrick hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and breathing in deeply. She lay her cheek against his shoulder and savored his warm, familiar scent, feeling relaxed for the first time in two weeks. "I missed you," she murmured.

"I missed you more," he whispered.

That might be true, she knew. He'd left her thoughtful little mementoes, not to mention his pajama top and a fridge full of food. She was ashamed she hadn't thought to leave him a loving note at the house, though she'd tried to make up for it with daily calls in the morning and before she went to bed.

She pulled back to kiss him deeply, needing the connection too much to care that they were in public. Patrick returned the kiss with enthusiasm, only breaking it off when someone nearby gave a wolf whistle.

"Let's get out of here," she said, smiling a little at his grin.

"Did you check anything?"

"No. Just this." She picked up the small duffel she'd dropped at her feet, and Patrick lifted it out of her hand, then switched it to his other so he could take her hand in his.

"How have you been? Really?" she asked as they headed for the exit.

"Well, everybody's healthy and sane. Nobody's dropped out of school," he joked. "There's been some crying, door slamming, and sulking, but the kids are bearing with me."

"Ha ha," she said wryly. "Seriously. Are you okay? You look like you haven't been sleeping." She knew the signs all too well.

"Meh. I'll make up for it this weekend. So tell me about your first case. I'm sure you're dying to brag about solving it without me," he teased as they made their way to the exit.

She'd been sorely tempted to ask his advice a couple of times, but she hadn't wanted him to figure out how much time she'd spent in the field. "You were there in spirit. Cho and I found ourselves playing 'What would Jane do?' near the end."

"I'm sorry I missed that, though I suppose my presence would negate any need for it," he mused.

"Let me tell you, the only thing more terrifying than one of your risky plans is a very risky plan Cho thinks you'd come up with," she said as they reached the Citroen.

The sight of the car brought a wave of nostalgia, and she suddenly realized why it had felt so strange being back in the field. She'd spent years out interviewing people with Jane; it was his absence that had bothered her.

But she'd resolved not to bug him about going back to work, and she needed to stick to that.

"Next time, just call me," Patrick said. "I'll let Cho know, too. I'll make room in my busy schedule."

She couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic. "So what have you been up to?"

"I've been networking like mad, trying to set up Blueberry's second career. I have a couple of leads, but nothing sure yet. Oh, and Belle had her yearly checkup. The vet thinks she needs a little more arthritis medicine, but otherwise she's doing well." Patrick set her bag in the backseat.

"Sucks to get old," Teresa sighed as they got into the car.

"Better than the alternative," Patrick pointed out. "Victoria is still not sure which college she prefers, but she's running out of time to decide. You might see if you can help with that. Once that's done, we can start thinking about Lady."

"Okay. You're just a zoo master these days, aren't you?"

"At least there's not an elephant involved." He chuckled as he started the car.

"How is Brett? Any news on that front? Victoria hasn't said much."

"We agreed it wasn't worth worrying you," Patrick said, making her heart speed up with concern. "But she thinks they were being followed on their last date. I'm trying to get her to agree to let me follow the follower next time, but she's being strangely resistant."

Despite her anxiety, Teresa had to grin. "Gee, a teenage girl doesn't want her overprotective father to follow her on dates. I can't think why."

"Shocking, isn't it?" Patrick said dryly. "And I've been told prom is definitely off limits. But she's going in a group, so hopefully that will provide some security."

"Other high school seniors on prom night are not exactly a reliable security measure. Unless Liam's part of the group."

"As if," Patrick said, in a fair imitation of his daughter's scornful tone. "He's got an entirely different group. They're holding a post-prom concert in our barn. I'm hoping you can be home that weekend, or I'll need to round up some adult help."

Teresa nodded. "It's still a month away, right? I'll have to let you know closer to the date. Sorry."

"No, I didn't expect you to know right now,' he assured her. "I was thinking I'd ask a few of the other parents over for dinner. The barn is far enough from the house that the kids can have a sense of privacy, but also can't get too carried away. And I've asked Stan to hold that weekend open in case I need security help."

"Sounds like you have it all under control."

"Naturally. Did you doubt it?"

"Me? Doubt?" She chuckled, and he joined her.

"I've tried to keep busy," he said, and though his tone was cheerful, she could sense the melancholy behind his words.

A month until prom, then two weeks more until graduation. It felt like an eternity. "I'm sorry I'm not here to help."

"We can lend you to the cause of national security," he said after a moment. "What aren't you telling me?"

"What do you mean?" Her response was automatic, though she knew it would probably be pointless.

"I asked you to tell me about the case, and you deflected. Did something happen you don't want me to know about?"

"I wasn't in danger. Not real danger," she assured him.

"Oh, I see. Just fake danger," he replied, an edge in his tone she didn't like. "I guess I should be grateful you didn't lay a line on me about my security clearance."

"Abbott would like to add you to the team eventually. He doesn't care if I talk to you. I just...I know I said I wouldn't be in the field. And it's not like I was tackling murder suspects or anything. But there were a lot of witness interviews, some of which involved people a little wary of Feds. It won't always be like that; I just want to get a feel for the work. I'll be a better manager if I understand what my people are facing in the field."

"And you didn't think I'd understand that."

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? I just didn't want you to worry needlessly. And I was hoping we'd have a nice reunion before we had to talk shop." From the way his knuckles were whitening on the steering wheel, she knew her hopes of going straight to bed when they got home were finished. Although he'd spent the majority of their working relationship lying to her, he couldn't handle being on the receiving end. "It's not any different than you waiting to tell me our daughter might be under surveillance by an unknown party."

Patrick sighed. "Point taken. I suppose if I want timely honesty from you, I'll have to agree to the same terms."

"That's the deal, yes. Or we can choose to trust each other to deal with our respective areas of responsibility," she suggested. "With the understanding that we talk through issues at some point. For instance, why haven't you asked for help with Brett's tail?"

"Stan said he'd need more to go on."

"Then ask Wayne and Grace. They'll do it as a favor."

Patrick was silent for a few minutes. "It's a big ask for them to come all this way when they're busy with their own family."

"True. But they're closer than I am if you need help." San Francisco was an easy drive, after all.

"I'll keep that in mind," he assured her.

"I'm also curious why you've waited for permission to follow the tail." It wasn't like he made a habit of it.

His mouth tilted in a wry grin. "Trying not to give my daughter reason to plot revenge. Prudence, I think you'd call it. I'm giving it a try."

"Ah. I'm sorry I'm missing it," she said.

"It's the downside of single parenting: nobody to play good cop/bad cop with. And I hate playing bad cop."

She knew that. "You should stick with crazy consultant."

"Ha, ha."

"No, seriously. You're telling me you can't figure out how to catch the tail without Victoria or Brett ever noticing?"

"Of course I could. But not without Liam noticing. And he's got this strange idea in his head that I need watching. Since you're not here to do it, he's taken it upon himself."

Teresa chuckled at Patrick's aggrieved tone. "He's always been a helpful boy."

"In this case, he's being distinctly unhelpful."

"I'll talk to him," Teresa promised. It wasn't Liam's job to interfere with his father, no matter how concerned he might be.

"So how is condo life?" Patrick asked, changing the subject.

"I love it," she said wholeheartedly. "Except that my family's not there. But the location is fantastic, and I love the space. Cho and Leila have come for dinner twice, and they seem to like it. Cho has a great place in Springfield, a nice townhouse. The second bedroom is a library; you'll love it."

"I can't wait to see it. How is it going, working with him again?"

"It's like we never stopped." Teresa smiled. "He's an even better interrogator now, if you can believe that. And watching him mentor Wylie makes me so proud. Oh, and I'm thinking of hiring his wife, too, Michelle Vega. She's sharp and smart. Abbott's not so sure about having a married couple on the team, but after Wayne and Grace, I know it can work."

"Not to mention your own experience working with your husband," he reminded her.

"You were never an agent. But yes. Wylie and Vega worked together in Austin before they started dating, until she got hurt on a case and was out on medical leave for several months. When she came back, the only open slot was on another team. I think they'd like to work together again."

Patrick was silent for a few minutes. "Well, they certainly know what they'd be facing."

"This job isn't like the CBI. We're not chasing murderers; we're tracking down conspirators, people hiding in the shadows."

"Desperate people can kill, Teresa. We've both seen that too many times."

"Yes, but we aren't the takedown team. Most of the time. We coordinate with Homeland Security on a lot of our cases."

"Good." Patrick turned onto the road that led to the farmhouse driveway. "So. What do you want for dinner?"

"Pizza." She wanted his attention, not him working in the kitchen while she sat in the living room.

He grinned. "Pizza it is. And Victoria will owe Liam five bucks."

Teresa frowned. "You let the kids bet on what I'd want for dinner?"

"Would you rather I take them to the horse races?"

She shuddered, remembering the case they'd worked at a horse racing track. "I'd rather our teenagers weren't gambling at all!"

"Nonsense," Patrick replied. "They've got to learn sometime. Better to do it on harmless family wagers."

"They don't have to learn gambling," she argued.

"It's just the fun form of risk assessment," he said. "And they do need to learn that."

"I'm not sure I agree with your premise," she sighed, "but I don't want to spend my visit arguing about the kids."

"Good, because neither do I," Patrick agreed. "It would be a horrible waste of the champagne I chilled and the fresh strawberries I bought."

Teresa smiled. "How long until they get home?"

"Long enough," he chuckled.

mmm

Their romantic activities were delayed a bit by Belle's enthusiastic greeting, but they were both satisfied and cheerful when Victoria and Liam hurried into the house to claim hugs.

"Have you grown?" Teresa demanded as Liam practically lifted her off her feet.

"I don't think so," he grinned, stepping back so Victoria could throw her arms around Teresa.

"All set for your competition tomorrow?" She asked her daughter.

"Yes. You're really coming?"

Teresa felt her daughter's skepticism like a physical blow, but she kept smiling. "Absolutely. I've missed too many, and the great thing about work being 3,000 miles away is that I can't be called to a crime scene."

"Great! Lady's ready to go. We beat our best time yesterday."

"I can't wait to see you in action," Teresa told her. "How's Brett?"

"He's fine. He says hi."

"Going out this weekend?"

Victoria shrugged. "I figured Dad would freak if I wanted to go out this weekend."

Teresa glanced at Patrick, who was standing nearby and seemed unperturbed. "Well, I won't. I don't want my work situation to disrupt your lives any more than the absolute minimum."

Victoria beamed at her. "Thanks Mom!"

"I see how this works," Patrick sighed dramatically. "I do all the hard work and discipline, and you fly in for the weekend and get to be the cool parent."

"Afraid so," Teresa chuckled, sliding an arm around him and hugging. "Want me not to come home?"

"Do your worst," he replied, giving her a one-armed hug in return, "but I'll always want you home."

mmm

Teresa thoroughly enjoyed her evening, eating pizza and listening to her family's account of the past two weeks. Even though she'd talked to at least one of them every day, she didn't mind hearing their stories again when she could see their excitement.

They stayed up late, until Patrick started yawning ostentatiously. "Past our bedtimes," he said. "Victoria needs her sleep if she's going to ride tomorrow."

She tried to smother a yawn. "I'm fine."

"Well, I'm tired," he replied, getting up. "We old folks need our rest."

"Are you calling me old?" Teresa demanded as she took his offered hand and stood.

"Never," he smiled. "But I've been looking forward to sleeping with you for two weeks, and my patience is exhausted."

Both twins grimaced, and Liam said, "I guess I'm going to bed if that's what you're up to. Goodnight, Mom, Dad." He gave Teresa a hug and then, when Patrick opened his arms, gave his father one too. Victoria hugged them both tightly and followed her brother upstairs.

Teresa took Belle out as Patrick started his nightly routine of checking all the doors and windows. While the dog sniffed around in the grass, she looked out at the night full of stars and insect noises and thought about the vast differences in her two lives. As much as she loved her city life and new job, she had to admit her heart was here with her family. She was glad that soon she'd be able to blend the two.

Patrick finished his checks and came to stand on the back porch, waiting for them. Teresa whistled for Belle, who took her time picking the exact spot she wanted to pee on, then did her business in her usual leisurely way before trotting back to the porch to wag her tail at Patrick.

"Good girl," he said as he let her into the house. Teresa wasn't far behind, and he followed her in, then locked the door behind them.

Their nighttime routine had never seemed so soothing, and when they crawled into bed, she didn't mind Patrick wrapping himself around her and tucking his nose into her hair. She'd imagined this moment for two long weeks, after all.

She fell asleep smiling.

mmm

Morning came too soon, but it was sweetened by Patrick's kiss and Belle's delight at having her attention when she emerged from the bedroom to the smell of coffee and pancakes. They all ate breakfast together, but Victoria left immediately afterward to make sure Lady was ready for the day, and Liam drove her since he wanted the car later.

"Want to go for a walk?" Teresa suggested as she and Patrick cleared the breakfast dishes.

He beamed at her. "I'd love to. Belle and I need our exercise."

They walked down to the pond hand in hand, Belle trotting along behind them. Blueberry was grazing on the other side of the water, and as they approached he lifted his head and then ambled over to them. Teresa patted his neck as he sniffed at her pockets, then moved over to frisk Patrick until he surrendered the apple slices he'd hidden.

"Smart boy," Teresa chuckled, reaching out to stroke the pony's back. "You know, I never worried about her when she rode him, but I get nervous every time she approaches a jump. Why did she have to pick such a risky activity?"

"Because she's an adrenaline junkie like her mother," Patrick smiled.

She frowned at him, surprised. She'd never thought of it that way, too used to seeing him in their daughter rather than herself.

"I'm just grateful she chose to be a respectable equestrian rather than, say, a con artist or a cop," he continued.

"There's still time," she noted wryly.

"No. Between us we've somehow managed to raise a young woman with fairly traditional life goals."

"Her goals may change in college."

"Yours didn't," he pointed out.

"I had to grow up fast. Victoria hasn't. She has the luxury of looking around, changing her mind. She doesn't have to support herself, much less anybody else. Which I'm very grateful for."

Patrick slid an arm around her shoulders. "We've made a good life for our family, haven't we?"

"Yes. It means so much to me that we've been able to give them everything we never had, growing up," she reflected. "Especially a father they can turn to, who loves and protects them."

Patrick was silent for a moment. "I know it hasn't been easy for you, leaving them with me. Even though the circumstances are completely different from your childhood, being absent from your children is the one thing I know you never wanted."

"It hasn't been hard to leave them with you," she assured him. "I mean, yes, it's hard being away from them, but I never worry for a second that they lack parental help or feel like they have to fend for themselves. You are the best father I can imagine, Patrick. The fact that I felt I could even do this should tell you that."

He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Thank you. But I couldn't be the father I am if you hadn't shown me how to be both good and strong. So you have yourself to thank."

"You were already a good man," she said. It was an old argument, but she never gave up hope that she'd convince him. "Even in the beginning, I saw it every time you came across a child or an animal." She smiled as Blueberry sniffed him one last time before concluding he had no more treats. "I think it'll be harder for you to say goodbye to him than it will be for Victoria."

"Don't bet on it. It's hard giving up our childhood loves," he replied. "But this is easier for her than us living here with him until he dies."

Teresa sighed. "True." Losing her childhood dog still gave her a pang every time she thought of it. Looking down at Belle's greying muzzle, she dreaded the pain of losing another beloved pet. If they could send Blueberry off to a good home and avoid direct knowledge of his death, maybe that really was better.

Patrick took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "Let's not be sad today. There's no reason to be. It's a beautiful day; our family is healthy, happy, and safe. And with luck, we'll get to watch Victoria win a ribbon."

She smiled for him. "Absolutely."

mmm

The competition was a large one, so it was held in an arena rather than at the equestrian center. Teresa was surprised at the crowd who'd come to watch, though the mix of parents of other riders and families with young children who'd come to admire the pretty horses was familiar.

Patrick insisted on popcorn and soda since the concession stand was open, and they settled into seats near the end of the course. Teresa watched the first few horses take the course with an expert eye, thinking that Victoria and Lady shouldn't have any trouble with it.

They both clapped loudly when Victoria rode into the ring, after a quick conference with her coach, Jeremy. She scanned the arena until she found them, grinning broadly but keeping her hands on the reins, and then beamed at someone behind them. Teresa turned and realized Brett was sitting a few rows behind, waving at Victoria.

"Brett's here," she told Patrick.

"Good," he replied. "Keep an eye out for anybody watching him."

Why anyone would want to follow a teenage boy around was a mystery to her, and she almost felt sorry for anyone drawing such an assignment. But Patrick was rarely wrong, so she'd be on the lookout.

Patrick was riveted to the arena floor, where Victoria was riding Lady around the ring before beginning the jumps. He knew far more about horses than she did, having been more deeply involved in their daughter's riding career. He would watch the entire ride with his keen eye and deliberately acquired expertise, but Teresa hated the way her heart pounded every time Lady approached a jump and usually closed her eyes for a brief prayer as her hooves left the ground.

On the third jump, she was doing just that when she heard Patrick suck in a sharp breath, then make a guttural choking sound she'd never heard before. Opening her eyes, she was stunned to see Lady land bareback, her saddle hitting the ground beside Victoria.

She barely heard the audience gasping as she launched herself out of her seat and down the steps, then over the low wall of the arena. All she could focus on was her daughter's crumpled body, eyes closed, one arm bent at an unnatural angle.

Jeremy was already there, having been closer, and he felt for a pulse, then said, "She's breathing."

Teresa's hands shook as she reached for Victoria's neck to feel for herself. The pulse was strong and steady, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Patrick knelt beside her, his breathing loud and unsteady. "She's okay," she assured him, alarmed by how white his face was.

He nodded, swallowing hard, as a doctor approached. "Don't move her," she warned. "You're her parents?"

"Yes," Teresa said. She was glad Patrick had always insisted on the best equipment; Victoria's helmet should have prevented life-threatening head injuries.

Victoria moaned, blinking, and opened her eyes, frowning in confusion.

"Don't move, sweetie," Teresa said quickly.

"Mom?" Victoria seemed surprised. "What happened? Lady okay?"

Patrick took a breath that sounded almost like a sob and got to his feet, probably to keep Victoria from seeing how upset he was. The doctor smiled down at Victoria, then glanced at Patrick. "You shouldn't walk on that ankle," she told him.

Teresa looked at him in alarm. "You okay?"

"I landed wrong, jumping over the wall. I shouldn't have tried to keep up with you," he joked, but she could tell he was in pain by how tightly controlled his voice was. "Don't worry about me."

She turned back to Victoria as the doctor asked her, "Any pain?"

"My arm." Victoria bit her lip, trying to be brave.

"Yeah, you messed it up pretty good," the doctor replied lightly. "How about your back and neck?"

"Okay."

"Can you wiggle your fingers for me?"

Victoria obeyed.

"Can you move your toes?"

"Of course." Victoria frowned. "Can I sit up?"

"I'd rather you didn't. I'm taking you out on a stretcher."

Victoria greeted this news exactly as her father would have. "I can walk."

"You landed on your back. I'm not taking any chances," the doctor replied. "I'm going to take your helmet off now, okay? Tell me immediately if anything hurts."

"Where's Lady?" she asked anxiously.

Teresa looked around. "Jeremy has her. She's fine. She wasn't hurt at all."

"What happened?" Victoria sounded annoyed now that her head was clearing. "We were doing so well!"

"Your saddle came off," the doctor replied, easing the helmet off and gently probing Victoria's head.

Teresa glanced over at Patrick, who was holding onto Lady's bridle to steady himself and looking down at the saddle. A chill ran down her spine as he met her eyes and nodded.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Brett hanging over the gate, held back by a security guard and looking terrified. She waved to let the guard know it was okay to let him through, and a few seconds later he was kneeling by Victoria. "Vic, thank God! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You came!" She managed a smile.

The doctor said to Teresa, "I want to get her to the hospital for a good look at her, but it seems her broken arm is the worst of it. We'll take your husband in the ambulance too and see about that ankle."

"Thank you," Teresa said, relieved. "Brett, you can ride with me if you want."

"Thanks," he said. "How can I help?"

"Stay with her for a sec while I talk to her dad."

"Sure." He took Victoria's good hand and held it.

Teresa bent and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I'll be right back, sweetie."

"Dad okay?"

"He's fine," Teresa smiled, though she felt guilty about the lie. Whatever Patrick was at the moment, fine was definitely not it.

He and Jeremy both looked grim as she went over to them. Jeremy spoke first, anger underlying his calm tone. "This was deliberate. Someone cut the saddle girth and then stitched it back loosely. Is she okay?"

"Just a broken arm, but the doctor wants to check her out at the hospital."

He nodded. "She landed hard, couldn't even catch herself. I'll report this to the judges, but would you rather call the police?"

"Police?" She hadn't thought of this as a crime, but of course it was. Possibly even attempted murder. "Would you mind doing it? I want to go straight to the hospital. Patrick, you ride with her, help her with the pain, okay?"

"Of course."

"I'll bring the car and call Liam."

Jeremy said, "Don't worry about Lady. I'll make sure she gets home."

"Thank you," Teresa replied.

"Let me know how she is, okay? I'll give her a call tomorrow," he added.

Teresa saw EMTs hurry in with a stretcher, and soon they were carrying Victoria over to them at her insistence. "Lady? You okay?" She reached out with her good arm, and Lady lowered her head to be patted.

Jeremy said, "Great ride, Vic. It wasn't your fault. Blue ribbon next time for sure."

"Thanks." She smiled wanly.

Teresa stepped over to Patrick. "Let's go. And don't give them any trouble at the hospital. I'll be right behind you."

He draped an arm over her shoulder to steady himself. "Hi, Brett."

"Hi Mr. Jane. You okay? You fell pretty hard."

"Not my best move," he agreed.

"See you at the hospital," Brett said, moving off with the stretcher.

Teresa helped Patrick hobble out of the ring, Jeremy and Lady following. The riders and trainers gathered at the exit called out well wishes as they passed, and then the announcer came on the speaker to announce the program would resume shortly.

At last they reached the ambulance. Teresa hopped inside to stroke Victoria's golden curls and say, "I'll be right behind you. Look after your father for me, okay?"

"Sure, Mom."

Teresa then helped Patrick up to sit on the other gurney. "Behave," she said, then kissed him. "See you there."

"Be careful," he told her.

She left the ambulance, watching Patrick reach for their daughter's hand as the EMT closed the doors. Then she hurried to her car, Brett at her heels.

Once they were in the car, she called Liam. She thought he wasn't going to answer, but he picked up on the fourth ring. "Hi Mom."

"I'm heading to the hospital. Victoria had a bad fall." Her voice shook a little despite her best effort.

"Is she all right?" he demanded.

"She broke her arm. And your dad messed up his ankle jumping into the ring. But they're both going to be okay."

"Which hospital? I'll meet you there."

Teresa was relieved, though she knew it was selfish. "You don't have to. But I'd like you to come home as soon as possible."

"I'm coming to the hospital," he said firmly.

"Sacramento Mercy," she told him. "Liam, they are fine. Do not drive like a maniac."

"Who, me?" He hung up.

She hoped he was taking her seriously, slowing for a red light, then making a right turn. Then she glanced in her rear view mirror and noted the two cars behind her.

Two turns later, one of them was still there. She memorized the license plate, then called Stan Moore. "Stan, Victoria and Patrick are headed to the hospital. Meet me there."

"What happened?"

Mindful of Brett, she said, "Victoria had a bad fall and Patrick hurt himself getting to her. I'll tell you everything when I see you. Mercy Hospital."

"I'm on my way."

He hung up, and Teresa focused on driving while Brett focused on his phone, probably texting. She thought she'd ask Grace to look into it tonight. Just in case.

That reminded her she'd need to call Cho and let him know she might need to extend her stay. Patrick and Victoria were both terrible patients, and it wasn't fair to leave Liam to deal with it all, especially if someone was out to hurt Victoria.

The thought made her furious and terrified. No, she wouldn't be leaving again. Not until she made sure her family was safe.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** Instead of apologizing for the delay as usual, I'm going to give myself points for posting anything at this busy time of year. For all of you celebrating holidays this season, I hope they are very happy ones!

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

Patrick insisted on staying with Victoria during her exam and X-ray, though it wasn't easy to do after a nurse forced him into a wheelchair. Teresa was no doubt waylaid in the waiting room with insurance forms, but he imagined she was furiously multitasking. He was sorry to miss seeing her in command mode, getting the investigation started.

But his daughter needed him now. She was holding up bravely and using the breathing exercises he'd taught her to keep the pain under control, but that was taking most of her concentration. Patrick's presence helped her focus, knowing he'd take care of the details.

It reminded him of when she was born. Teresa had focused on bringing their children into the world, leaving everything else to Patrick (except security, which Cho had taken in hand). He was glad not to feel helpless, then and now.

Just when he was losing patience, the doctor came in and called up the X-ray on the room's display monitor. "Good news," he said, smiling at Victoria. "It's a clean break; no surgery required. You'll need to wear a cast for about six weeks, but that's all."

Victoria managed a brief smile before horror set in. "But...prom!"

The doctor said, "You won't be the first kid to go to prom with a cast, believe me."

The tears welling up in her eyes propelled Patrick out of his wheelchair. He balanced unsteadily on one foot, hopping to reposition himself so he could sit on the edge of the exam table and put his arm around her. "Don't fret, Princess. It will be okay."

"How?" she wailed.

"We'll get some fabric to match your dress for the sling. We can be creative," he assured her. "We have plenty of time to work that out."

The doctor said, "We're not talking about a big, clunky plaster cast. Don't worry. I'll be right back with it. And then, Mr. Jane, you are going to let me have a look at that ankle of yours."

"Uh oh," Patrick sighed, hamming it up in hopes of cheering up his morose daughter. "We might end up with matching casts."

She didn't reply, but a second later Liam poked his head through the curtain. "There you are," he said, sounding relieved. "Mom sent me back here to make sure you didn't provoke the doctors into sedating you."

"Your sister is behaving beautifully," Patrick said, earning him an exact replica of his wife's "cut the bullshit" look. He grinned unrepentantly, but for some reason his son wasn't as charmed by that as his mother usually was.

"You okay, Vic?" Liam asked, coming over to his sister.

"My arm's broken. I'll have to wear a cast to prom," she grumbled.

"Well, better than being in traction, I guess," he replied. "Brett's outside. You want to see him?"

She bit her lip. "After they're done with the cast."

"Of course. Dad, Mom wants to know if the doctor thinks you can drive."

Patrick grimaced. "Not the Citroen, but I could handle the Volvo."

"Okay, I'll tell her. I think she wanted me to take Vic home and you to go with her."

Patrick knew Teresa hated driving his car and hoped she wasn't so far out of practice that she'd upset its precarious transmission. But he'd rather she drove it than Liam, who definitely hadn't mastered manual shifting yet. But that wasn't the most interesting implication of Liam's remark. "Go with her where?"

"Uncle Stan caught somebody following Mom. He was stupid enough to hang around outside the hospital, can you believe that?"

Patrick slid down off the table, grimacing as his ankle flared with pain. "Who was it?"

"I don't know. I never saw him, just overheard Mom and Stan talking."

Ah ha, Patrick thought. This wasn't an order being relayed, merely intelligence being passed along. Liam would make a superb operative, with his ability to observe so quietly that even his own mother could forget he was in earshot. "Okay. You stay with your sister, understand? Don't leave her for a minute. I'll be right back."

He hadn't hobbled more than two steps when the doctor returned. "Now, Mr. Jane, leaving so soon? Have a seat; I'll be with you shortly."

Liam moved the wheelchair behind Patrick, who gave up with a sigh and sat down. Truth be told, his ankle really hurt. And it wasn't like Teresa was going to let him go anywhere until the medical establishment had done its worst.

mmm

What seemed like an eternity later, Patrick was able to leave the emergency room treatment area, his sprained ankle tightly wrapped and using a pair of crutches. Liam walked beside his sister to make sure no one could jostle her injured arm, carrying the sheaf of discharge instructions the doctor had insisted on printing for both of them.

Teresa was standing in the corner of the waiting room, speaking urgently into her phone and trying not to be overheard. As she caught sight of them, she said, "I'll call you back" and hung up, then hurried over. "How are you, sweetie?" she asked Victoria, laying a hand on her cheek.

"I'm okay," Victoria said bravely. "Liam said Brett was here?"

"Yes, he just went to find a bathroom." Teresa turned to Liam. "Are those the discharge instructions?"

"Yeah. Cast for six weeks, over the counter painkillers as necessary. Dad is supposed to stay off his ankle and keep it elevated," Liam recited.

"Right," Teresa sighed, giving Patrick a skeptical look.

He grinned. "Kiss my boo boo?"

"No. But I'll kiss your mouth, if only to keep you from telling me why you're going to ignore everything the doctor said," she replied, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"Don't worry. I promise not to give Liam a hard time," he assured her.

She didn't even try to pretend she believed him. "I'm the one who's going to make you take it easy. I'll call Abbott and Cho when we get home and tell them I need a week's emergency family leave."

Patrick's heart leaped with joy, but it was only a moment before the guilt kicked in. She was a mere two weeks into her new job; requesting leave so soon would feel irresponsible to her. "You don't have to do that. We'll manage."

She ignored his protest. "Liam, take your sister home in the Volvo. Your dad and I have to go talk to someone, and then we'll be right home."

"Sure, Mom," he replied.

Victoria said, "Not until I see Brett. It would be rude to run off when he came to see me."

Teresa's phone rang, so she didn't reply, leaving it to Patrick to say, "We'll wait a minute, but your mom and I need to get going."

"Why?" she demanded.

She needed to know the truth, he decided. "Because your girth was cut."

"No it wasn't! I checked it!" she retorted, indignant.

"It was cut and then stitched back so you wouldn't notice. Whoever did this made sure it would only break under strain, like during a jump." Patrick tried to keep his fury out of his voice, but he didn't succeed.

Liam's face was flushed with anger. "Who?"

"The police will work on that, and we want to make sure they have what they need. You two need to go home and stay there so we know you're safe."

Victoria frowned. "Safe? You don't think this was about the competition?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Patrick could only be relieved when Brett came into the waiting room, distracting her. The two of them hugged, careful of her broken arm, and murmured to each other. Patrick couldn't make out what they were saying, but from Liam's disgusted expression, he gathered it was the kind of inane talk teenage couples often indulged in.

Teresa hung up her phone again. "Okay, time to go. Brett, we'll drop you back at your car on our way while Liam drives Victoria home." Her tone softened as she focused on her daughter. "Get some rest, sweetie."

"Brett can come with us," Victoria protested.

"No," Teresa said firmly. "You need to rest, and he needs to remove his car from the arena parking lot."

Victoria pouted, but she knew when her mother couldn't be persuaded. Liam did too; he took her good arm and said, "C'mon, let's go. I know where dad hid the brownies he baked yesterday."

Patrick raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to find a new hiding place. "Be careful."

"I'll call you," Victoria called over her shoulder to Brett as Liam guided her toward the door.

Patrick was bursting with questions, but he knew better than to ask them until after they dropped off Brett. It took a maddeningly long time to hobble out to the Citroen and get into the passenger seat, and then his patience was further tested by having to watch Teresa inexpertly drive his cherished car. Sensing that any commentary would get him sent back to the hospital, he decided to distract himself. "It was nice of you to come, Brett. I know it means a lot to Victoria."

Brett, looking a bit cramped in the back seat, shrugged. "I figure I better learn about horse riding, since she loves it so much. I didn't think it was dangerous, though."

"Any sport can be."

"Yeah, well, I guess I didn't think it was really a sport," he said sheepishly. "I know better now though."

Patrick grinned. "Don't let Victoria hear you say that."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"We didn't see you come in. When did you get there?" Patrick asked.

"I was running late. I got there just before she rode in. I had to park in the farthest lot, and it took forever to walk to the center. I didn't expect it to be so crowded." Brett sounded both aggrieved and impressed. "She won't be able to ride for a while, I guess."

"Not until her cast comes off," Teresa said. "I'm sure she'll still want to go watch her competition, though. I hope we can rely on you to make sure she takes it easy while she heals."

"Of course," Brett said eagerly. "I can take her to the movies. And maybe she'll watch me play tennis sometime."

That was unlikely to cure her inevitable restlessness, Patrick reflected. It was more likely to send her screaming to the stables. "Just don't get hurt on the court," he said, only half joking.

"I'll be careful. I scraped up my elbow last year when I fell. It really hurt."

Ah, the obliviousness of the adolescent male, Patrick thought. If Brett attempted to compare sports injuries with Victoria, she might dump him on the spot. Which her father would be fine with.

Brett's phone buzzed, relieving them of the necessity to engage him in further conversation, since he texted the rest of the ride. As he got out of the car, he said, "I know Victoria needs to rest, but can I call her tomorrow, or maybe bring her flowers?"

Teresa said, "You'll need to ask her, but that sounds nice. Be safe driving home."

"Thanks, Mrs. Jane." He closed the door and turned to his own car.

Teresa let out a long breath as she put the car in motion again, if a bit unsteadily at first. "Someone followed me to the hospital, or, more likely, followed Brett. Stan picked him up outside the hospital. He's waiting for us before he questions him."

"Kind of him. I'm a little rusty, but I'm sure interrogating suspects is like riding a bike." Patrick couldn't quite keep the malicious anticipation he felt out of his voice.

"I doubt we'll be allowed any closer than the observation room," Teresa replied. "Remember, this might just be the person following Brett around. It doesn't mean he had anything to do with Victoria's fall."

"Mm hm," Patrick responded, unconvinced.

"I talked to SacPD about the cut girth. Given that she's got a broken arm and possible concussion, I impressed on them that this was possibly attempted murder, not just a jealous competitor."

Patrick wished he'd heard her browbeating the cops into submission. She'd always been able to do it, but he bet she was especially ruthless since her daughter was involved. He knew he wasn't the only one fantasizing about punching the person who'd hurt Victoria. "Good. I know there are some security cameras in the stable, but I'm not sure about the tack room." He frowned. "It's odd, isn't it? Obviously they were trying to make it look like an accident, but they had to know we'd find out it wasn't."

"Same MO as the car accident?" Teresa suggested.

"Hm. Possibly. Both had the potential to seriously hurt her, but the more likely outcome was minor injury or trouble."

"You said it felt tentative before."

"It does, doesn't it? Like someone trying to nudge her life in a different direction."

Teresa was silent for a moment. "Visualize?"

"Trying to knock her off track so they can 'rescue' her? Possibly. A lot of their recruits come in to get back on track. But I believe Jason Cooper; it's not officially sanctioned. It could easily be someone acting on their own, or a small group, though. People in a cult would be likely participants in a secret plot. A sub-cult, if you will."

"That doesn't narrow it down much."

"But the person following Brett might be the loose string we can use to unravel the whole sweater."

"I hope so," she said, her tone grim.

mmm

Moore was waiting for them at the FBI field office. Teresa had her ID with her, but Patrick had to get a visitor's badge, which annoyed him greatly.

"Has he said anything?" he asked as he signed in.

Moore shook his head. "Not a thing. His driver's license is bogus, but we found his real name off the facial recognition program: Roger Gibbons. He worked for a private security firm until six months ago and is unemployed. But his record's clean. No P.I. license on record, so following an FBI agent is enough for us to hold him a while."

Teresa nodded crisply. "SacPD is looking into who sabotaged the saddle. At least they'll have a suspect to run any fingerprints against."

Patrick said, "Let me at him, Stan. You know I can make him talk."

"I do," Moore said wryly. "But you're a civilian connected to the case, so the answer is no. The most I can do is let you watch."

"Of course," Teresa said quickly.

"And that means," Moore said sternly to Patrick, "no interruptions. No banging on the one-way mirror. No barging into the room. Got it?"

"Got it," Patrick replied.

"I mean it. Do not do anything that will make me have to cut this guy loose."

"I understood you the first time," Patrick said, a little annoyed.

"Don't worry," Teresa said. "We know how important this is. Which interrogation room?"

"Two." Moore led the way, only slightly impeded by former coworkers greeting Patrick and/or Teresa. They both knew the way and continued down the hall to the observation room when Moore entered the interrogation room.

"It's been a while since we did this together," Patrick remarked, holding the door open with his crutch for her to enter.

She nodded, giving him a quick smile as she passed. Then she froze.

"What is it?" Patrick asked, letting the door swing shut as he came to stand beside her.

She grabbed a fistful of his sleeve. "I know him."

"You do? From where?" He frowned, examining the man's face. It was unfamiliar to him.

Teresa had gone pale, and he immediately lost all interest in the suspect, instead focusing on her. "Teresa?"

She swallowed hard, then looked at him with wide eyes. "He was at the facility."

Patrick stopped breathing for a moment. For his wife, there was only one "facility": the one where she'd been held prisoner after Red John kidnapped her. "Visualize?"

"He was one of the guards who brought me my meals. I memorized his face, but he wasn't in the roundup afterward."

Patrick's jaw clenched. "That explains his attempt at a new identity."

Teresa nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "The statute of limitations has long passed. We can't change him in connection with my kidnapping."

"He might not know that." Patrick started for the door, but was stopped by her grip on his sleeve.

"You promised."

"I did not. I made a point of it."

"Give Stan a chance."

Patrick decided to acquiesce, if only because Teresa needed his support. Reminders of her captivity unnerved her, even now. She would probably have nightmares again for a few days, and she was looking at him with a pleading gaze he remembered from eighteen years ago, when she'd needed his presence to reassure her she wasn't dreaming, that she was really free. "Okay," he said gruffly, closing a hand over hers.

She slowly unclenched it, sliding her fingers between his and squeezing.

Gibbons stubbornly kept his silence as Moore asked why he was following an FBI agent. Patrick frowned, itching to go in there and break the man who'd participated in his wife's suffering.

Teresa suddenly tugged her hand out of his grip and pushed the door open before he could react. He watched in shock as she barged into the interrogation room and slammed her hands down on the table, leaning menacingly over Gibbons. "Hi, Roger. Remember me? Yes, I can see you do. That's something, I suppose. At least you haven't held so many women captive that their faces all run together in your head."

Gibbons blinked, unnerved but trying not to show it. Moore must have realized it, because he didn't try to stop her.

"So how did you go from kidnapper to stalker? Or maybe you haven't. Maybe the stalking is just a prelude to kidnapping?"

"I never kidnapped anybody," he retorted. "I was just doing my job like I was paid to do."

"Then, or now?" She challenged. "Or both?" After a pause, she continued, "Both, I see. Interesting. I know who paid you back then, of course. You worked for Visualize, and maybe Red John on the side."

"I never worked for that nutcase," he shot back. "I worked for the church. I didn't know why you were there."

"Really? I recall telling you I was there against my will several times."

Gibbons shrugged. "They all said that. It was a locked ward. As far as I knew, you were just another junkie or nutcase."

"Okay, maybe that's true. But then why change your name if you were innocent?"

"To avoid the witch hunt. The cops were all over the place, and they didn't care that most of us were just doing our jobs." He looked angry. "Red John screwed us over. He didn't care about the church, just himself."

"True," Teresa said. "And I would believe your story if you hadn't been caught following me today. Whose bright idea was that?"

Gibbons frowned, and Patrick could see him trying to figure out his best course of action. He still wanted to get in there, but Teresa had things in hand. He was proud of her. She'd learned all the right lessons from him—and, if he was being honest, from Cho.

"I wasn't following you. A friend of mine is sick; I was coming to visit him."

Moore said, "Name?"

"Why should I tell you? I haven't done anything wrong. You've got nothing."

Patrick started to hop toward the door, but stopped when Teresa said, "Maybe not. But I'm sure you remember my husband, right? The man who killed Red John? And he doesn't recognize any statute of limitations. You made a bad mistake today, coming to his attention."

"You can't threaten me!" Gibbons protested.

Teresa smiled coldly. "That wasn't a threat. Just a friendly warning. Be careful going home, Roger. We won't meet again, I'm sure."

She left the room, leaving Moore and Gibbons to face each other. Moore said, "Don't worry. I'm sure Patrick is too busy to worry about you right now, what with the attack on his daughter. Unless you had something to do with that."

"No! Why would I attack anybody? I'm just trying to make a living. I lost my job and I started driving for a ride service. Some guy hired me to pick him up at the arena and bring him here." Gibbons was alarmed. "Look, I have his name here in the app."

"That's not any more convincing than your last story," Moore said.

Patrick agreed. It was unlikely that the person who'd hurt Victoria would leave a trail like that. He glanced over as Teresa came back in. "Nice job."

"Really?" She was surprised.

"Really. Why so shocked?"

"You're usually critical of my acting."

"You've gotten better," he smiled.

On the other side of the glass, Gibbons was still trying to sell his story. "It's right here. Check it out."

"Oh, I will," Moore assured him. "Along with everything else about you. By the time I'm done, I'll be able to give your eulogy. Not that I'll need to, I'm sure." He got up from his chair and left the room.

When he was alone, Gibbons scrubbed at his face with his hands, let out a long sigh, and sat with a defeated slump to his shoulders.

Moore entered the observation room. "What do you think?"

"Useful idiot," Patrick replied.

Teresa scowled. "How useful?"

"Depends on how careful the person using him is."

Moore nodded. "I'll turn over all the rocks I can find and let you know if anything crawls out. Now go home to your kids. And try not to worry."

Patrick snorted. "Have we met?"

"Let's go," Teresa said firmly. "You need to rest, and I have calls to make."

He'd always loved it when she got all authoritarian on him. "Yes, ma'am."

Moore held the door open, and Patrick hobbled through behind Teresa. Truth be told, he was ready to go home. He had children to comfort, a wife to strategize with, and a case to mull—not to mention an ankle that really did hurt. But he wasn't done with Roger Gibbons.

Not by a long shot.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Happy New Year! Here's hoping you all have a healthy, happy, and prosperous 2017. Thank you for all you do to keep our fandom alive!

* * *

 **Chapter 18**

Teresa focused on wrestling into submission the ridiculous antique her husband called a car, not wanting to give in to the part of her brain that was shrieking in fury at even now not being free of Red John's blight on her life and Patrick's. If she let the anger take over, it might spend itself and reveal the darker layer beneath, which she wouldn't name but felt awfully like fear.

Glancing at Patrick, she saw that he was deep in thought, tapping his lips with one long finger. He'd have a plan by the time they got home, she bet.

She tried to get control of her thoughts by forming a plan for herself, listing the things she needed to do: get Patrick home, make sure the kids were okay, call Abbott, call Cho, change her plane ticket, feed Belle, fix dinner, see if maybe the Sacramento field office had a desk she could use to work remotely if needed. She felt herself calming as she laid out the concrete things she could do.

Patrick reached out and laid his hand lightly over hers on the gear shift, and she glanced at him again.

"It will be all right," he said softly.

"I know," she lied.

He didn't call her on it, and when she stopped at a light, she looked more closely. The lines around his mouth were pronounced, and he was turned toward the window. He was practically vibrating with tension.

As hard as this was for her, it had to be even worse for him. Having lost one wife and daughter, he was terrified of going through that again. No wonder he'd hurt himself getting to Victoria; the sight of her lying limp and still must have reminded him of finding Charlotte's body. And then to have that whole Visualize nightmare dredged up again immediately afterward—it was a testament to his strength and resiliency that he was still functioning.

He wouldn't sleep tonight, she knew. He'd roam the house, thinking and checking the locks, stopping in to make sure she and the kids were safely in their beds. She knew the pattern from the early part of their marriage.

Of course, the crutches might be a problem. Maybe she could wear him out and make him sleep a couple of hours, like she used to.

As she wrestled the car along the driveway, she saw Blueberry grazing near the house, but Belle didn't come to greet them. She frowned.

Patrick heaved a sigh of relief as she turned the car off. She would have been insulted if she hadn't felt exactly the same way.

She got out and went around to his side to help him out of the car. It was an awkward maneuver, and it took all her strength to get him upright and on his crutches. There was a moment when he almost fell, and she grabbed around his waist to steady him, then held on in a tight hug they both needed.

"It really will be all right," he said, his voice hoarse. "I promise."

"Me too," she whispered. Then she carefully released him and watched him like a hawk as they made their way up the porch steps and into the house.

Liam met them at the door, looking relieved as he saw it was them. "Vic's asleep," he whispered.

Teresa looked past him to see her daughter curled on her good side on the couch, a blanket tucked around her and Belle curled up by her feet. The dog lifted her head and thumped her tail twice, then settled back into her nap.

"Good," Patrick said gruffly. "That's the best thing for her."

"It's not quite been an hour," Liam said. "I know we have to wake her in a while. I was going to make some herbal tea."

"That sounds perfect," Patrick groaned, lowering himself into his favorite chair.

Teresa reached out and rubbed Liam's shoulder as he passed, smiling at him. He was such a good boy. She wasn't sure where he'd gotten it from, really.

She knelt to help Patrick get his shoes off, then pulled over the ottoman so he could elevate his injured ankle. "I'll get you some ice," she said, eyeing the swelling.

"Thank you, my dear," he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Teresa went into the kitchen and began looking for the ice pack she knew was around somewhere. Liam was putting the kettle on and setting out cups.

"Mom?"

"Yes?" She opened the cabinet near the fridge, then realized Patrick might keep it above the fridge. Dammit, she would need the step stool.

"Did you see the guy who was following you?"

"Yes." She stopped her search to look at him. "The FBI are holding him."

"Who was it?"

How much to tell him, she wondered. "Nobody you'd know."

Liam made a face at her. "I hope not. But you did, didn't you?"

"Yes. From a long time ago."

"Was he one of Red John's people?"

"No, I don't think so. At least, not a very important one."

Liam frowned. "Then—oh. He was in Visualize?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath and decided he should know the whole story. "He was one of the guards at the facility where I was held when Red John kidnapped me."

"That's why you look so freaked out."

She smiled a little. "Do I?"

"Oh yeah. So does Dad. I figured serious shit is going down."

"Language," she warned reflexively.

"So this guy, you're charging him with kidnapping? Will he go away for a long time?"

"No. There's a statute of limitations on kidnapping in California. He can't be charged with that."

"That's ridiculous!" Liam rarely got angry, but he was now. "You mean he'll never pay for being part of a crime?"

"I didn't say that." Lisbon swallowed her own indignation. "If I know your father, he's hatching a scheme to hypnotize him into believing he's a duck or something for the rest of his life. Which would be illegal, so I expect you not to help him."

"Why not? He deserves it." Liam was unconvinced.

Teresa had an alarming vision of him aiding and abetting Patrick in a series of outrageous revenge schemes and shuddered. "Because we live in a society ruled by law, not vigilante justice. And because we do not get what we deserve in this world. You know that. We will all be judged and get what we deserve in the next life, and that's forever. Red John is burning in hell right now, and he has plenty of his followers for company. That's justice enough for me."

Liam scrunched up his nose. "It still feels wrong."

"Being a good person isn't supposed to be easy. Ask Father Gregory tomorrow, and he'll tell you I'm right. We don't take justice into our own hands. We leave it to our justice system, and to God. No exceptions."

He sighed. "I guess you're right."

That sounded suspiciously like something his father would say when he didn't agree but didn't want to keep talking about it. "I have my hands full with your sister and father. If you get into trouble, don't expect me to post your bail."

He grinned suddenly. "Yeah, both of them hurt at once is going to suck. Guess we'll find out who's the worse patient once and for all."

"That reminds me, I have calls to make." She found a large plastic sandwich bag, filled it with ice, and took it to Patrick, who gave her his best pathetic look. "Liam's making your tea. And do not drag either of our children into whatever plot you're cooking up!"

He gave her a look of cherubic innocence. "Plot?"

She didn't bother pressing the point; he knew when she was serious. Instead, she went out to the front porch and called Abbott, biting her lip as she thought about what to say. Perhaps fortunately, it went to voicemail. "Sir, it's Lisbon. I'm sorry, but I need to take some emergency leave. My daughter's been hurt, and my husband injured himself getting to her. I'm sure Cho can handle anything that comes up, but if you need me I can see about working out of the Sacramento office for a few hours a day. And of course you or the team can call or text me anytime. I'll let Cho know as well. Thanks for your understanding."

She hung up, let out a breath, and dialed Cho. He picked up on the first ring. "Cho here."

"Hey, Cho." She knew better than to ease into her point with small talk, which would annoy him. "I'm staying in California until at least next weekend. I left Abbott a message."

"Okay. What's up?"

"Victoria broke her arm, and Jane sprained his ankle trying to jump into the arena."

Cho made a noise that might have been a muffled snort. "You have your hands full."

"Yeah."

"What happened? Did she fall?"

"Yes, during a jump. But only because her saddle was sabotaged."

Cho's voice sharpened. "Do you know who?"

"We have a suspect, but we're not sure. He followed me to the hospital, and we picked him up for that."

There was a pause. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It was someone I recognized from the Visualize facility. A guard. He's been living under a new identity."

"Can't be a coincidence," Cho said.

"No."

"You need help." It was pointedly not a question.

"Stan Moore is on it," she assured him.

"You should all come here until this is over. The twins can attend classes remotely, can't they?"

For a moment, she was strongly tempted. "Not prom. Or any of the other things they're looking forward to. It's their senior year, Cho."

"Yeah." He was quiet for a moment, then continued, "Don't worry about anything here. I'll talk to Abbott, fill him in on the background if he doesn't already know."

"Thanks."

"You should call Rigsby and Van Pelt," Cho said.

Teresa was surprised. "Why?"

"They're closer. And if this is Visualize, they'll want to know."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll call them tonight." With three teenagers at home, not counting Ben off at college, the Rigsby family was generally busy until late evening.

"Stay sharp," Cho said. "And if there's anything we can do at our end, just call."

"I will. Thanks, Cho."

After she hung up, she went back into the living room, where all was peaceful for the moment. Patrick was sipping his tea, Victoria was still asleep, and Liam was waiting impatiently, fingers tapping against his knee. When he saw her, he said, "Any news?"

She shook her head. "Real police work isn't like TV shows. It takes time. I was just making sure everybody knows not to expect me in Washington Monday morning. Oh, I'd better change my flight." She opened the app on her phone and did so, grimacing at the change fee.

Liam heaved a very put-upon sigh. "So we're not going to do anything?"

"For the moment," she confirmed. "I'm going to change my flight and talk with your father about what he has planned for this week. And when Victoria wakes up I'll help her change clothes. Eventually I'll have to inspect the kitchen to see about dinner. But no crime fighting."

Patrick chimed in. "Unless something unexpected happens."

She gave him a quelling look, but Liam merely rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. Can I go back to what I was doing, then?"

"I'd rather you stayed close to home," she replied, noting how Patrick's hands shook slightly as he listened.

Liam sighed again.

"Why don't you invite the band over and practice in the barn? For your concert after prom?"

He brightened. "Yeah. I guess we could."

Patrick added, "They're welcome to stay for dinner if they want."

"Okay," Liam said, his attention already focused on his phone as he headed for the stairs.

Teresa sighed, finishing with the app and sliding her phone into her pocket. "That won't hold him for long. We have to let him leave the house again sometime. Both of them."

"I know," Patrick said softly. His eyes were fixed on Victoria, sleeping peacefully under the couch throw.

Teresa went to sit on the arm of his easy chair, sliding her arm around his shoulders. He set down his empty teacup on the end table on the other side of the chair, then leaned his head against her side.

She smiled a little as she looked at her beautiful daughter, so much like her father. She'd always thought Victoria was a special blessing, because she gave Patrick back the things he'd treasured with Charlotte and had thought lost forever. He loved spending time with his son, which was all new for him, but his relationship with Victoria had an element of redemption to it.

She was so glad the twins had been one of each gender, for both their sakes. While Liam was a new frontier for his father, Victoria had been a new world for Teresa. She wouldn't have missed her little princess for the world.

"All the hours of your life you've spent watching her sleep," she said softly. To be honest, she now wished she'd spent more time doing it with him.

"I'm not done yet," he whispered. He slid an arm around her waist. "I promised you I wouldn't let anyone take our babies away from us. I still mean to keep that promise."

She remembered how afraid she'd been at the end of her pregnancy, tortured by nightmares where Red John was still alive and she gave birth while his prisoner. They'd both been downright paranoid with their newborns, she thought as she looked back. It had been exhausting, especially after she and Victoria came home while Liam was still in the hospital.

Things were different now, though. She was healthy and secure and perfectly able to defend her family. "I promise you the same," she said. "We will figure this out."

"I'll call Jason Cooper and let him know about Gibbons. He may have left Visualize, but it might be helpful to look into who his friends were."

She was relieved he was working the case rather than brooding. "Good idea. Cho said I should call Grace and Wayne, that they'd want to know."

"I'm not sure that's true, but we should definitely warn them. Just in case this is bigger than we think it is."

"Could it be?" she wondered.

"Possibly." He tapped his lips with a finger. "It feels very focused, though."

"What could anyone want with our daughter?" It made no sense to her. Victoria was in many ways a typical teenager, despite her intelligence. And she was far too stubborn and self-confident to be sucked into a cult. Teresa couldn't imagine even Bret Stiles getting the better of Victoria.

"Nothing we'd approve of," Patrick said grimly. Then he looked up at her. "But we will find out. And stop them. Whatever it takes."

"Yes, we will." She was suddenly very glad she was staying. Patrick hadn't gone down the rabbit hole on a case in many years, but she remembered the signs.

mmm

The rest of the day passed slowly. Liam and his friends took over the barn, and after Victoria woke up and washed the dirt off with Teresa's help, she busied herself calling and texting her friends. Patrick dozed for part of the afternoon, leaving Teresa with time on her hands. She'd brought her laptop home out of habit, so she checked her email and put an out-of-office message on, then made a few calls. Grace's phone went to voicemail, so she left a message for her to call when she got a chance.

She then checked Moore's case report, but the only update was that the person in the ride service app had been in Los Angeles for a week, and his account had been hacked. It was apparently a dead end, though the cybercrime team had been assigned to find out if the hacker had left any identifying traces.

She pondered this for a few minutes. Could Gibbons be innocent, and his involvement a coincidence? Or, more likely, a red herring? Anyone who'd done even minimal research on their family would know how distracting a reminder of her captivity would be.

Of course, using Gibbons as a red herring meant the person behind the plan knew his real identity and his role in Visualize all those years ago. It had to be someone with access to Visualize or someone who had known Gibbons a long time.

Moore apparently thought Gibbons would turn out to be unchargeable for the day's activities, because he'd listed all the minor crimes the suspect could plausibly be held for, including falsifying his identity and probable tax fraud.

If Gibbons was smart, he'd plead guilty to anything he could think of so he could stay safely behind bars, out of Patrick's reach, Teresa thought grimly. Her husband would not forgive anyone who'd harmed his family, even by inaction.

But if Gibbons was a distraction, they needed to keep their attention on what it was meant to divert attention from. Victoria's injury? No, she wasn't likely to forget about that. Brett? Victoria hadn't expected him at the competition; could his presence be connected with the cut girth?

Patrick didn't seem to suspect him, and her own instincts didn't lead her to see him as a suspect. But he could easily be an unwitting accomplice, manipulated by someone else. Someone who might follow him to ensure he was on task. Brett's clandestine meeting with Patrick seemed to argue for that—she'd seen someone surveilling him then with her own eyes, after all.

She logged off her computer and went upstairs. Victoria was lying on her bed in comfortable clothes, texting one-handed while a vid played on her desk screen. "Hi Mom. Any news?"

"Not yet. I'll check with SacPD tomorrow after church. How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. The sling's a nuisance though."

"Yeah. Has Brett called?"

"Yeah, a while ago. Can he come over tomorrow?"

"Sure, after church. Unless he'd like to go with us."

"Lame." Victoria scrunched her nose.

"Faith isn't lame," Teresa replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's part of who you are. His faith is part of who he is. If you can't share that, there's a part of yourself you'll always feel he rejects."

Victoria frowned, looking at her. "You don't share your faith with Dad."

"No." Patrick had always been up front with the kids that he didn't believe in the benevolent God they learned about from her, but he'd never discouraged them from following what she and the church taught. "And that will always make me sad. But I don't have to hide anything from him. In fact, he said once that he's grateful for my faith because it made me the person I am. He accepts it as part of me. So in a way, we do share it. And that's what's important. If he tried to change that about me, we would never have worked. We believe different things, but we respect each other's beliefs. We accept each other for who we are. For all we are."

"I remember when I was little and I was worried Daddy was going to Hell, so I tried to make him come to church with us," Victoria said thoughtfully. "You said God would call him in His time, not mine, and meanwhile I should focus on my own faith so that when God talked to Daddy, he'd listen because he'd have my example of what a good thing it was."

"Yes. I still believe that. Your father is a good man. He may never come around to organized religion, but I think in time he will find his own form of faith. His path is just less direct than ours." Teresa had thought long and hard about the challenges he faced, and she had to admit that if one of her children died a horrific death, she'd be hard pressed to keep believing in a loving God.

But she hoped she would find comfort in the thought she'd see them again in heaven. Patrick had always denied himself that, not just out of disbelief, but guilt. He didn't want to know that Angela and Charlotte might have seen his long, bitter quest for revenge, or know that he'd found happiness with a new family. It was more comforting for him to think they were gone completely than that they might know and judge his actions after their deaths.

"Well, at least Brett believes in God," Victoria mused.

"That's a good start. So I fail to see how inviting him to Mass would be 'lame.' If he wants to know who you are, he'll welcome the chance to see this side of you." Teresa smiled. "Even your father has been to Mass once or twice with us, on special occasions."

"I'll think about it," Victoria said.

"Good. Now. Is there anything special you'd like for dinner?"

"Spaghetti and meatballs with cheesy toast?" she said hopefully, her big green eyes reminding Teresa of a much younger version of her daughter.

Relieved the request was within her culinary capabilities, Teresa smiled. "Coming right up."

mmm

Nobody seemed to want to go to bed that night. Liam hung out in the living room after his friends left, strumming idly on his guitar and making notes for a song that wasn't quite gelling, ignoring Victoria when she snapped that he was giving her a headache. Teresa took that as her cue to give her more pain medication and suggest an early bedtime. Patrick dozed on and off on the couch, Belle asleep on the floor beside him, serving as examples.

Finally Victoria deigned to go upstairs and let her mother help her into her pajamas. It had been years since Teresa had tucked her daughter in, but tonight she couldn't help hovering.

"I'm okay, Mom," Victoria yawned as she got into bed.

"I know. You're a strong, brave young woman, and I'm very proud of you," Teresa said, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to stroke her golden hair.

"Thanks," she said, closing her eyes.

Teresa wondered how in the world she was going to be able to leave next weekend. "Since you can't ride, what would you think about coming to Washington for a little while? You can do your class work remotely."

"I'm on the prom committee," Victoria reminded her. "I can't do that remotely."

"Well, think about it." She bent to kiss her daughter's forehead. "Sweet dreams, princess."

"G'night, Mom."

Teresa went to the door, turned off the light, and quietly closed the door behind her. Then she went downstairs again. Patrick was snoring lightly as Liam softly played the same line of melody over and over again, trying to figure out what came next.

"Mass tomorrow," she reminded him gently.

"Guess I'm not getting anywhere with this anyway," he sighed. "You need help getting Dad upstairs?"

"No, we'll manage. Get some sleep." She patted his shoulder.

He gathered up his notes and guitar and went upstairs, Belle trotting after him. Teresa smiled as she watched them go.

She knelt beside the couch, laying a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "Patrick," she said gently.

"Hm?" He was still mostly asleep.

"Time for bed. Come on."

He gave a huge yawn, blinking at her. "What time is it?"

"Nearly midnight. I'll help you up the stairs."

"It'd be easier just to stay here," he pointed out, but he sat up.

"I'm tired of sleeping alone," Teresa said, holding out her arms to help him balance as he stood, then handing him the crutches. "Just let me lock up."

She wasn't surprised when he followed her around the first floor of the house, double checking the doors and windows. It would have been easier to let her do it, but securing the house was almost a compulsion for him, especially when he felt his family's safety was in doubt. She only hoped he wouldn't try going downstairs to triple check while she slept.

Her phone rang just as they made it into their bedroom. She frowned, wondering who could be calling this late, and pulled it out of her pocket. It was Stan Moore, and her heart beat faster in anticipation of news. "Hi, Stan."

"Teresa. Sorry to call so late." He sounded harried, and she guessed that whatever his news was, it wasn't good.

"What's happened?"

"Roger Gibbons is dead. Poisoned. The cameras in the holding area were replaced with a loop from earlier, and someone smeared a spot of gel on his hand. He was dead by the time he was found."

Teresa felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. Patrick, who'd been watching her intently, reached for the phone and put it on speaker. "What happened?"

Moore repeated himself. "The M.O. rang a bell. Rebecca Anderson, right?"

Patrick's jaw clenched. "Yes. This wasn't just someone cleaning up. This is a message."

Teresa swallowed hard. "Saying what?"

"That we're not free of him. That we'll never be free of him." Patrick was pale, but more with rage than fear. He looked like he wanted to punch something, but settled for thumping his crutches in frustration.

Something like panic seized Teresa briefly before her training kicked in. "You're starting an internal investigation?"

"Yes." Moore sounded grim. "Hard to believe this could have been done without help from someone in our office. I guess Visualize isn't dead in law enforcement after all."

"We don't know that," she pointed out. "If the person at your office was an accomplice, it might have been unwittingly. Or coerced. Keep us posted."

"Will do." He paused. "I'm a little concerned about you all, out there in the country with no close neighbors. I don't have the resources to post a guard, but—"

Patrick said, "We can't trust any of your people now anyway. We're going to Washington."

"Not tonight, we're not," Teresa pointed out. "We'll be okay, Stan. We're all locked up with the alarm set, and I've got a gun within reach."

"Okay. I'm not sure when I'm getting out of here, but I'll swing by when I do, just to make sure you don't have company."

"Thanks. We appreciate that. Good luck," she said.

"You too," he replied before disconnecting.

Teresa put her phone on the nightstand, then opened the drawer, took out her gun lockbox, and used her thumbprint to unlock it. Then she checked the weapon and loaded it.

Patrick sat down on the bed and leaned his crutches against the nightstand on his side. "Now I really want to sleep downstairs."

"And I still really don't want you to," she replied. "This was meant to freak us out."

"Yes. And it has." He grimaced. "Though I take your point that we shouldn't allow ourselves to be manipulated. You think whoever this is expects us to run to Washington?"

"It's what we both want to do. Predictable."

He met her eyes for the first time since the call. "Entirely. Which would argue their goal is better served by having us there. Why? If they know us, they know we have friends there too, so it's not like we'd be isolated."

She thought about it. "Easier to get to us in a big city? We are out in the country here. It's easy to spot someone out of place. There, it might not be." She paused. "I suggested a visit to Victoria, and she wasn't interested. Maybe they think we'll drag her there against her will and that will make her rebellious."

"Could be."

"I called Grace earlier, but I'll call her again in the morning and give her an update. And Cho. If this is somebody sending us a message, they might go after one of them next." She bit her lip, hoping she was wrong.

"Possibly. We should keep them up to date. But somehow I don't think so." Patrick was deep in thought. Then he looked at her. "You should get some sleep, be fresh for the morning."

"So should you," she said, knowing it was useless.

"We both know that's not happening. I'll sit up and keep watch."

She sighed. "At least stay until I fall asleep?"

"Of course." They exchanged a look full of memories.

Their bedtime routine was a little awkward with Patrick's crutches, but she tried not to interfere, knowing that routines comforted him. Thinking back to their early relationship, she remembered the ways she'd tried to soothe him when he was anxious, with varying degrees of success.

More than 18 years later, there were differences, though. They knew each other much better and held less back. Neither had to make the first move; they rolled into each other's arms immediately after getting into bed. She didn't mind that he held her tightly, and he didn't protest when she slid a hand into his curls and began messaging his scalp.

"I wonder how many of his disciples went to ground like Gibbons," he murmured. "They might not be embedded in Visualize anymore. They would have had to avoid all the reeducation efforts after Red John's death."

"Cooper wouldn't give us a member list back then. Think he'd be more cooperative now if we asked for ex or missing members?"

"Worth a try. He doesn't want all that dredged up again. And whatever this plot is, it can't be good for the current incarnation of the cult. The timing indicates this is aimed at our children, and so far it appears that Victoria is the target. With a little training, she could certainly give their current guru a run for his money, either challenging him for control of Visualize or setting up a rival group."

"For what, money? Power?" Teresa couldn't see the motive. "Victoria isn't interested in either of those things."

"No. There'd have to be something else to motivate her. Love?"

Teresa had a hard time believing her strong-willed daughter could be pulled so far off course by romance. "Redemption? That's more their style, and you said yourself it feels like someone trying to change the course of her life: framing her with drugs, an 'accident' that takes away her hobby."

"True. I wonder how long their reach is? Would she be safer in DC?" he mused. "And how do we keep her safe at college?"

Teresa shivered a little, and he pulled her even closer. "We can't, not completely. Her safety will largely be up to her. All we can do is give her the skills and knowledge to protect herself."

"Maybe we can talk her into a gap year," Patrick said. "To give us time to sort this out."

"We can try." Teresa doubted Victoria would go for it, though. She was a high achiever, a striver, goal oriented. Those were things she'd gotten from her mother. "But if this goes on for a year, you and I will be nervous wrecks. We need to sort this out now. Before graduation."

"I can hypnotize Brett, see if he knows anything."

"If you do, you'd better make sure Victoria doesn't find out about it."

"She knows I'd do anything to keep her safe."

"That won't make her any more forgiving if you interfere with her boyfriend," Teresa warned.

"That's a risk I'm prepared to take."

"I thought you'd decided Brett was innocent."

"That doesn't mean someone isn't using him. If they are, he'll know something about them. I might be able to identify them even if he's not aware of what they're up to."

She could feel him calming down as he developed a plan. That was good. Even though as a mother she wanted to stand guard over her daughter and punch anyone who came close, as a cop she knew she needed to remain calm so she could think rationally. She and Patrick had survived Red John's plots; they could defeat whoever was trying to interfere in their lives this time too.

She whispered, "We'll be okay. Whatever this is, we'll take care of it."

"Yes, we will," he whispered back, all the weight of a promise in his fierce tone.

She relaxed a little. He always kept his promises to her, after all.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** Hope everyone's year is off to a good start! Thanks for sticking with this story. It means so much to me that I'm not the only one who can't let go of these characters!

* * *

 **Chapter 19**

Patrick managed a couple hours of sleep, pulled under by his wife's heartbeat against his chest and her warm breath puffing against his neck. He confined his nighttime wandering to upstairs, checking on the kids and Belle several times but not venturing down the stairs for fear of falling. He would just have to count on the alarm system until his ankle healed.

Moore texted around 3 a.m.; he'd driven by the house and saw no one watching it. That was good news, and Patrick started to think that the threat wasn't imminent. Their enemy was playing a long game, it seemed.

After the text, Patrick got back into bed to calm Teresa's restlessness. She was dreaming, he thought, but not a full-fledged nightmare. She stilled with a long sigh when he drew her into his arms.

He wanted nothing more than to protect her from every bad thing, even dreams. But there was so much he was helpless to prevent. She'd been kidnapped practically from under his nose all those years ago, after Red John distracted them all with a threat to Ben's life. There was part of him terrified that the threat to Victoria was meant to distract him so Teresa could be taken again, though he knew that was unlikely. There was no reason to kidnap her now, no Red John obsessed with her and wanting an heir. She was no longer capable of that anyway.

When the sun rose, he kissed her gently and got out of bed. Belle met him in the hall, wagging her tail and hopping gingerly down the stairs ahead of him. He was slower than usual with the crutches, and she was whining a little when he got to the back door to let her out.

He put the kettle on and made sure the coffee was ready to start when Teresa woke, then set out cereal. Usually he cooked a big brunch while his family was at church, but today he wasn't willing to let them go without him. He could sit through a Mass if it meant knowing they were safe.

His phone rang as he was sitting down to sip his tea. "Good morning, Grace," he greeted her.

"Hi Jane. I wasn't sure if Lisbon was up yet. She called yesterday, but we had two birthday parties, a soccer game, and basketball practice."

He smiled. "So just a normal Saturday then."

She chuckled. "You could say that."

"Teresa's still asleep. We had a rough day and a late night. Somebody cut Victoria"s girth, and she broke her arm. The FBI caught someone following Teresa to the hospital who turned out to be one of the guards at the Visualize facility living under a false identity. He was killed in custody exactly the same way as Rebecca Anderson late last night."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then he heard her muffled shout of "Wayne!" A few seconds later, she said, "I'm putting you on speaker, Jane. Wayne's here."

"Hey, Jane," Rigsby said. "What's up?"

Patrick repeated his summary of yesterday's events. When he finished, Grace said, "What do you need from us?"

"We just wanted to let you know, in case this is bigger than we think," he replied. "So you can be on your guard. We've let Cho know as well."

Rigsby said, "You really think this is somebody trying to come after us for Red John? After all this time?"

"We're not sure. But something's going on, and it may not be what it appears."

Grace said, "When is it ever?"

"Right," Rigsby agreed. "If we can help, just let us know."

"We're good. We might be heading to DC ahead of schedule. Just keep your eyes open, and stay safe."

"You too," they chorused. In the background, Patrick heard a crash and yelling, and Grace groaned. "Better go. Give Lisbon our love, okay?"

"Of course." Patrick hung up, feeling better. It was good to be reminded that he was still part of a team who'd be there for him and Teresa whenever they needed help.

It occurred to him that they hadn't told Cho about Gibbons' death, so he tried calling, but it went to voicemail. "Cho, it's Jane. Gibbons is dead, murdered just like Rebecca Anderson. Call when you can."

He then sat down to drink his cooling tea. A few minutes later, Victoria shuffled in.

"Good morning, Princess. How are you feeling?"

"Like I fell off a horse," she grumbled.

"Did you take some medicine?"

"Not yet. Need some water." She got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it from the water dispenser in the refrigerator door, managing one-handed without apparent effort.

"If you want, you can stay home this morning." Teresa wouldn't insist if Victoria was in pain.

"No. Brett's coming with us. Will you help me do my hair?"

"Sure." Patrick was surprised at the news, but he was not at all averse to spending a little time with Brett. Maybe he'd get a chance to put him in a trance and find some answers. "He can come to brunch with us."

"We're going out?"

"I'm coming to church today. And it's too hard to cook standing on one foot," he replied.

She grinned at him. "We'll convert you yet."

"I'm fine the way I am," he retorted. "No conversion necessary. Anybody else up?"

"I think I heard Mom." Victoria swallowed a pill, grimacing.

"Cereal, or something more substantial?" Patrick offered.

"Cereal's fine. You want some?" She opened another cupboard and pulled out a box, then turned to the fridge for milk.

"I would, thank you." He smiled at her as she set a bowl in front of him, then a container of blueberries. "Could you start the coffee?"

She did so, then sat down and fixed her cereal, adding a few blueberries.

Teresa joined them a few minutes later, hovering over the coffeemaker as if she could will it to be faster. Patrick suppressed a chuckle; he still found her adorable in the mornings, even if she was grumpy and uncommunicative. "Liam up?" he asked.

"Yeah." The coffeemaker beeped, and she poured a mug, breathing deeply before sipping.

Victoria wasn't as patient as her father with the non-morning people in the family. "Dad's coming to Mass."

Teresa raised an eyebrow, the skeptical detective look combining oddly with her messy hair. "Oh?"

"So is Brett, I'm told," Patrick explained.

She wasn't fooled for a moment. "Patrick, nothing's going to happen to us at Mass. Why don't you stay home and rest your ankle like you're supposed to?"

"My dear, are you actually discouraging me from attending worship? What would Father Gregory say?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes but obviously recognized it was pointless to argue with him. Besides, she didn't really want to, he knew. She would be just as happy as he was to keep their family together today.

mmm

Brett met them on the church steps, and they all went in together. Patrick grinned a little as he settled into the pew beside Teresa, remembering how he'd crawled half the length of this sanctuary to surprise her during his stint in Vegas. Back then, he couldn't have imagined this day, sitting here with a new ring and his second family. And his daughter's boyfriend. He reflected glumly that scanning the church for suspicious characters would have felt perfectly natural to his former self, though.

It kept his mind occupied, which was good, since Teresa never appreciated him whispering commentary in her ear when she was trying to pay attention. She took her rituals seriously, and he tried not to interfere.

Brett, looking awkwardly out of place, was trying hard to follow along but looked as though he would have welcomed some commentary. But Victoria was at her angelic best, projecting sincerity and rapt attention that Patrick knew were too perfect to be real. Liam was paying attention but was slouched in the pew pretending not to.

Patrick reflected on the differences in his children. They were both actors in their own way, but Victoria preferred the spotlight while Liam tended to avoid it. While they weren't carbon copies of their parents, there was something about their interpersonal dynamic that reminded him of his partnership with Teresa. The twins made a formidable team when they wanted to. Since adolescence there hadn't been as much of that, but Patrick had no doubt that Liam was on high alert when it came to Victoria's safety.

They needed to stop whatever plot this was so both kids could relax and enjoy their last semester of high school. Patrick had missed the entire high school experience, and Teresa had been focused on her brothers, so they both wanted to give their children what they'd missed.

At last the Mass was over and they were filing out, stopping to chat briefly with Father Gregory. Victoria thanked him for offering to pray for her arm to heal quickly, then introduced Brett with a sense of pride that mystified Patrick a bit.

"Mr. Jane," the priest greeted him in turn. "It's always a pleasure to see you. Did you have an accident as well?"

"As you see," Patrick replied, holding out a crutch. "Just a sprain, though. Nothing serious."

The priest smiled. "I'll put in a word for you nonetheless."

Though he didn't believe in prayer, Patrick wouldn't reject the goodwill of an honest man. "Thank you, Father. Nice homily today."

"Best you've heard all year, eh?" Father Gregory teased. "Thank you. I look forward to seeing you again sometime."

Patrick grinned and moved off so the next family in line could greet the priest. Teresa was waiting to walk down the steps beside him, hovering a little in case he fell. He let her, knowing it was useless to try to override her caretaker instincts.

They had a lovely brunch at a nearby French bistro. Patrick noticed that Teresa took a seat where she could watch the street, so he made sure to keep an eye on the window as well. But he was also watching Brett, who was doing a good job of entertaining Victoria. It seemed he had decided to not bring up the previous day's events, and Patrick wondered if he was being sensitive or really wasn't curious about the man who'd followed him and Teresa.

Liam, who'd seemed to be absorbed in his quiche and potato galette, suddenly said, "So since the guy who followed Mom is dead and the app was a dead end, what happens next?"

Patrick had no intention of discussing his next moves in a public venue. "The FBI will keep looking into him, just like SacPD will keep looking into who sabotaged Victoria's saddle."

"But you're not going to do anything?" Liam persisted.

"I'm going to rest and heal and make sure your sister does the same," Patrick replied. Which was true, if not the complete truth.

Teresa said, "Law enforcement frowns on relatives investigating cases. But Stan Moore assures me he's on it."

Victoria and Brett had stopped their conversation and were listening. Victoria said, "I just hope they catch whoever cut my saddle. Oh, Dad, we need to take it to get a new girth."

"Sure, I'll take care of it," Patrick said. "Unless the police are keeping it as evidence. Maybe you should just get a new one."

Teresa gave him a sharp look, but Victoria said, "I like that one. I don't want to break in a new one."

Patrick hoped he could get it back for her by the time she could ride.

Liam said, "So I guess I'm driving to school for a while."

Victoria sighed loudly, but Teresa said, "I'll be driving you this week. I can't take any more of that ancient contraption your father calls a car."

Now both kids looked unhappy. Patrick was reassured until Brett said to Victoria, "If you need a ride after prom committee meetings or whatever, I can drive you after practice."

"Thanks." Victoria beamed at him.

Patrick exchanged glances with Teresa, comforted to find she was also uneasy at the thought of their daughter on her own after the attempt to hurt or even kill her. He was sure Teresa would arrange things so that Victoria didn't need a ride from anyone else.

"Do you want to catch a movie this afternoon?" Brett suggested to Victoria.

Teresa cut her daughter off. "Victoria should rest. But you're more than welcome to watch something at our house, Brett."

"Sure, Mrs. Jane. Thanks."

mmm

The rest of the day passed quietly. Liam wanted to go hang out with his friends but didn't push when Teresa replied that she'd rather he stayed home for the day. He ended up watching a movie with Victoria and Brett, much to his sister's displeasure.

Patrick tried calling Jason Cooper and ended up getting his voicemail, so he left a message asking for information about Roger Gibbons' known associates and other Visualize members who disappeared after Red John's identity was revealed. He was sure Visualize already knew that Gibbons had been found and killed, so it wouldn't be a mystery why he was asking.

Cho called back mid-afternoon, having already looked into Gibbons' death through both FBI and CBI contacts. Patrick and Teresa went into their room so they could use the speakerphone without being overheard. "Everybody I talked to thinks the Sacramento field office has some housecleaning to do," Cho concluded. "Nobody's happy. They all thought we were done with this crap."

"We did too," Teresa said.

"I talked to Abbott. He said he'd approve leave for me if you guys want some help. I wouldn't mind seeing my family in Oakland and dropping in on Rigsby and Van Pelt."

Patrick smiled at his old friend's attempt to seem less generous. Teresa did too. "Thanks, Cho. We appreciate it," she said.

"We might be heading your way instead," he added. "But we'll definitely call if we need backup."

"Make sure you do," Cho said, before saying goodbye.

Brett stayed for dinner, then reluctantly announced he had to leave when his mother texted him asking if his homework was finished. Patrick made sure he was the one to walk him out, much to Victoria's dismay. "Thanks for coming. It made the day much less trying for Victoria," Patrick remarked as they went out to the front porch.

"Thanks for having me. Dinner was delicious," Brett replied.

The way to a teenaged boy's heart really was through his stomach, Patrick thought. He'd stuffed his guest full, hoping he'd be relaxed and off his guard when this moment came. He put a hand on his shoulder, which was awkward with the crutches. "It means a lot to us to have someone else looking out for her," he said, looking Brett in the eye. "A nice, honest young man like you is hard to find. I could put a hundred boys your age in a room and ninety-nine of them wouldn't measure up. Ninety-eight would be thinking only of themselves, and ninety-seven of them would probably run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. Not like you, willing to stick with her and be honest about your feelings."

Instead of slipping into a light trance, Brett looked confused. Patrick went on for a few more sentences before deciding his method wasn't going to work. "Drive safely," he finished.

"Sure, Mr. Jane. Thanks for everything." Brett hurried to his car.

Patrick watched him drive off, then went back in the house, frowning. He headed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, ignoring Teresa's attempt to catch his eye. She followed him into the kitchen, as he'd known she would.

"Well?" she demanded.

He paused to face her. "Nothing. I couldn't induce a trance."

"You're kidding." She folded her arms. "Since when can't you put somebody under?"

"I must be losing my touch." He set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner.

Teresa frowned. "I've never known you to fail to hypnotize someone."

"I suppose it had to happen eventually. Some people are naturally more resistant than others. I might just need more time with him."

"What makes people resistant?"

"If you know what to look for, it's harder to be hypnotized," he said. "When I hypnotized you all those years ago, I first had to make you believe I wasn't going to. You knew what to look for; you were too aware of the process. I needed to relax you. Maybe I need to get him more relaxed."

"He was practically in a food coma," she said. "Are you saying he's been hypnotized before?"

"I'm betting he's familiar with the process." It made sense, he thought. "And now I've tipped my hand."

"Do you think he knows how to do it? Could he have tried with Victoria?" Teresa demanded, looking sick.

"She knows too much about it to be taken off guard," he assured her. Though he'd never wanted to turn his children into mentalists, he'd taken pains to ensure they couldn't be taken advantage of by one. Had someone done the same with Brett?

"Well, there goes that idea." There was relief mixed with Teresa's disappointment; she had never really liked him hypnotizing people. "What now?"

"We'll think of something." Soon, he hoped.

The kettle whistled, and Liam strolled in, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of sparkling water. "What's up?" he asked.

"I'm making tea and trying to convince your mom to have a cup," Patrick replied.

"I'll have some of that jasmine green," Teresa said. "You finished with your homework?"

"I still have some calculus to do, but it won't take me long. And I have a chemistry quiz tomorrow, so I just need to look over the chapter again," Liam shrugged. "No big deal."

Patrick smiled at Teresa's expression. She'd been no slouch in school, but she was still sometimes amazed at how easily it all came to their children. "Don't stay up too late," she warned.

"Don't worry, Mom," he grinned, heading out of the kitchen.

"Easy for him to say," she sighed.

Patrick handed her a steaming, fragrant mug. "Drink this. You'll feel better."

"Maybe with a shot of whisky," she murmured.

"I'm sure Jason Cooper will call back tomorrow, and maybe Stan will have found something," he said, trying to comfort her. "The kids are safe at school."

"We don't know that," she argued. "We never have figured out how the coke got into the kids' car. Are you thinking of getting a new one, by the way?"

"No. Liam won't need one in DC, and Victoria probably won't need one for her first year at college. If she does, we can buy her one out East. We already have two more cars to get across the country; no need to add any more."

"You could sell the Citroen. And the Volvo, for that matter. Parking's expensive in DC."

He felt a pang at the thought of parting with his car, the last piece of his old life he still had. "Maybe."

She looked at him with affectionate exasperation. "You're never going to part with that thing, are you?"

"I might leave it here, drive it when we come for vacations," he offered. The Volvo would be more practical to take; Teresa's Mustang was too small for all four of them.

"Whatever you think's best," she relented. "Any plans for tomorrow?"

"I'm talking to someone about Blueberry. There's a lady who already has a miniature horse in the therapy program and is open to expanding. I'll probably end up paying for the training, but I don't mind. The old boy probably wants something to do with his days, and he loves kids. He'd be a hit at a children's hospital."

"Yes, he would." She smiled, no doubt remembering the same birthday parties he was. "At least we can take Belle. Speaking of her, it's time to let her out. Belle!" she called.

Patrick greeted the beginning of their nighttime routine with relief. He'd had a long day, his ankle was throbbing, and he was ready for bed. While Teresa went in search of the dog, he settled at the table with his cup of tea and sipped, thinking hard about the reasons a teenage boy might know so much about hypnotism.

mmm

Monday got off to a busy start, at least for Teresa as she herded the kids off to school. Patrick kept his phone appointment with Katherine Carson, the lady who was interested in Blueberry, and arranged for her to come meet him next weekend. When Teresa got home, she logged onto her computer to check on things, and Patrick read while he waited for Cooper or Moore to call. Moore reported nothing new just after lunch, and a friendly young woman name Janine called to say that Brother Cooper was out of the country but had asked her to look into his request. Patrick didn't feel very hopeful he'd get anything out of the cult until Cooper's return.

He needed some one-on-one time with Brett, but in such a way that it wouldn't seem like he was after something. They didn't share any hobbies in common, and Victoria wasn't likely to cooperate. He needed a trick of some kind.

Teresa interrupted his train of thought, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm going to pick up the kids. Back in a little while."

"Be careful," he called as she headed for the door.

"Always am!" she called back.

Patrick returned to his book, Belle coming to snooze at his feet after seeing Teresa off. About an hour later, the dog lifted her head, woofed softly, and trotted over to the door, heralding her return. He put his book down and sat up to greet his family, surprised to find them looking upset. "What's up?" he asked, heart pounding with dread.

Victoria held out her phone. "This!"

Patrick peered at the screen. It showed a photo of a note that had been printed on a piece of folded paper. "Leave her alone or she won't be the only one with broken bones."

"Someone put that in Brett's locker!" Victoria said angrily.

Teresa said, "The original was turned over to the principal. They turned it over to SacPD in case this turns into more than an anonymous threat. I talked to Detective Newman; there were no fingerprints. They're analyzing the paper and ink but there doesn't appear to be anything unusual about them. The lockers are under surveillance so they're looking at footage."

"Meh. Whoever did this was smart and careful," Patrick said. "We should look at motive. Why threaten Brett?"

"There's no reason," Victoria protested.

"You're referred to in the note. It could be someone who thinks he's a threat to you." Patrick glanced at Liam. Yep. The boy was guilty as hell.

He looked away again instantly, but not before Teresa noticed. She'd learned long ago to pay attention to what he was paying attention to. "Liam?" she said.

"What?" He met her gaze bravely.

"Do you know anything about this?"

He shrugged. "I think Dad's right. They won't find any evidence."

At least he'd been careful, Patrick thought, torn between exasperation and pride. "This note will tell us something," he said. "It might flush out whoever's using Brett. If they think he's in danger, they'll act."

Victoria burst out, "What if he really is in danger?"

"People who really intend harm rarely warn their victim," Patrick pointed out. "I think this can be a good thing. It's the sort of ruse I might come up with."

That earned him three different looks: outrage from Victoria, warning from Teresa, and relief from Liam.

"Well it's not fair," Victoria insisted. "Brett was really upset, though of course he was trying not to let on."

Teresa said, "That's the problem with ruses like this. There's usually collateral damage." She frowned at Patrick.

"Don't look at me," he said, holding up his hands. "For once, I'm entirely innocent."

After a moment, she decided she believed him. Unfortunately, she drew the correct conclusion. "Liam Patrick Jane, tell me the truth: did you have anything to do with this?"

Liam was not a practiced liar; he gave himself away by hesitating. But Teresa didn't put him out of his misery, folding her arms and staring him down as only a practiced interrogator—or a furious mother—could.

Liam broke after a minute. "Well, somebody had to do something."

Victoria flushed with anger. "How dare you!"

"He knows something he's not saying," Liam said. "I thought if I rattled him, he might let something slip, or lead us to whoever's behind all this. Everything's been a dead end, and you guys just want to let the cops handle it, but what if they can't?"

"That is not up to you to decide," Teresa retorted. "And just because your father and I don't discuss our plans at the dinner table doesn't mean we're not doing anything."

"Like what?" he demanded. "And don't say it's not my job to protect this family, because somebody's got to!"

"That's enough," Teresa said. "What if someone finds out it was you who wrote the note?"

"They won't."

"You can't know that."

Liam rolled his eyes. "There's no evidence."

"So you turned off the cameras in the locker room?" she challenged.

"No. I wasn't stupid enough to put it in his locker," Liam said, his voice rich with scorn.

Victoria frowned. "But Brett said that's where he found it."

"That's because he didn't notice me walking past him and sliding it into the stack of paper he was going to throw into his locker. He's a slob, so it was easy." Liam shrugged. "I was going to put it in his pocket, but then I figured you would know it was me."

Teresa shot Patrick a look that said this was all definitely his fault. He couldn't deny it, but he knew better than to interfere when she was making a point.

"Anyway," Liam continued, "it wasn't a death threat, so I wouldn't get expelled. Probably just suspended for a couple of days."

"Oh, that's okay then." Teresa glared at him.

"Look, I know it wasn't a nice thing to do, but can we see if it does any good before you decide on my punishment?"

"The end does not justify the means, so no. Go upstairs and start your homework," Teresa ordered.

He grimaced and went toward the stairs. As he passed Victoria, she hissed, "Bastard!"

"Victoria!" Teresa scolded.

Patrick added, "If you must insult your brother, choose one that doesn't insult your mother into the bargain. Funny how most of the bad names for men usually involve their parentage."

Both women glared at him. Victoria said, "Well I hope you're going to do more than ground him! He doesn't mind sitting in his room for hours on end."

Teresa replied, "We will think of an appropriate punishment. But I hope you'll have the good sense not to mention this to anyone at school, especially Brett."

"Why not? He deserves to know there's not a maniac after him!"

"Because although your brother was misguided, I'd rather he not be suspended from school," Teresa replied.

"Or put in danger himself," Patrick added.

"Danger?" Victoria looked at him in disbelief.

"Think about it. If someone is using Brett and senses his plot is in jeopardy, he might strike out. And who would care enough about you to threaten someone to leave you alone? Only your family. And of your family, only your brother could have done it at school."

"I might have a creepy secret admirer," she argued, but without conviction.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Not that I know of." She sighed. "Fine. I won't tell him. But you're making this relationship very difficult!"

Patrick grinned. "Don't worry, Princess. I lied to your mother almost daily for a decade, and she still married me."

"You always told me the truth eventually," Teresa reminded him. Then she turned to Victoria. "As you may, when this is all over."

"Fine. I'm going out to say hi to Blueberry," Victoria announced, then headed for the back door.

When she was gone, Teresa sank onto the couch beside Patrick. "Whatever possessed you to teach Liam pickpocketing?"

Patrick decided the question was rhetorical. "At least he was clever about it." He chuckled. "There's a little Jane mixed in with all those Lisbon traits after all."

"A little too much," she grumbled. "I suppose you have a plan to capitalize on this ill-advised maneuver?"

"I think I have, actually." Patrick smiled.

Teresa sighed.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay! Life is a little hectic right now, and I've struggled a bit with this plot. I think I have it worked out now though. Thanks to all of you still reading, especially those of you who review. It really does inspire me to know what you think!

* * *

 **Chapter 20**

After dinner, Teresa cleaned up the dishes, sent Liam back to his room, and made sure Victoria was settled on her bed with her homework and phone. Then she went back downstairs where Patrick was waiting expectantly, took a deep breath as she scrolled through her own phone's contacts, and called Melinda Mason. She hated playing roles in one of Patrick's cons when she was sure the immediate target was innocent, but this involved her children's safety, so she would play along for now. "Melinda, hi, it's Teresa Lisbon, Victoria's mother."

"Oh, hello Teresa. Brett told me you were looking into whoever put that horrible note in his locker. Do you have any news?"

Teresa grimaced, carefully sorting out truths she could tell. "I spoke to a detective I know with the police. They haven't found anything yet, but they haven't given up. How are you holding up?"

"It's terrifying. I don't know how I'll be able to sleep tonight."

Teresa looked at Patrick, who gave her an encouraging nod from his seat on the couch. Could he even imagine a normal person's reaction to a note like that anymore, after all they'd been through? She hated this. At least she could give some comfort. "I have some experience with cases like this. People who leave anonymous notes rarely act on them. And if they do, there's usually an escalation. I don't think Brett is in immediate danger, and probably in no danger at all."

Melinda sighed. "It's such a relief to hear that. The police said the same thing, but they don't know us. Personally, I mean. I know you wouldn't dismiss it lightly, since you know Brett."

"No, I wouldn't. How is he doing?"

"Trying to be brave. He says he's going back to school tomorrow no matter what."

"Good for him," Teresa said. "And he still doesn't have any idea who might have done it?"

"No. He tried to convince me it was probably somebody playing a joke on him. But I don't think it's funny."

"Neither do I," Teresa agreed, eyeing Patrick askance. He just grinned at her. "I have an idea that might help, if you're willing."

"Really? What is it?"

"My husband is good at helping people retrieve memories. He's a, uh, mentalist of sorts. He thinks Brett may have noticed clues he isn't consciously aware of but might be able to retrieve with the right help."

"Oh." Melinda sounded like she had no idea how to respond. "I, uh...I appreciate that he wants to help, but—"

"Of course you'll want to discuss it with Brett and your husband," Teresa cut in, trying to forestall a rebuff. "No need to answer right away. I know I'd want to think long and hard about letting one of my children try something like that."

"Yes," Melinda said, relieved. "Of course, we'll talk it over."

"And I'll call you if I hear anything from the police," Teresa said. "Please let Brett know we're thinking about him and are sorry he's had to go through this."

"Thank you so much, Teresa. I feel better now. We'll talk soon, I hope."

"Try not to worry. Good night."

"Good night," Melinda replied before ending the call.

Teresa turned to Patrick with a scowl. "She's worried sick. No mother should be scared like that."

"At least her son isn't in any actual danger, unlike our daughter," he pointed out. "Did she buy it?"

"I think so, at least enough to discuss it with her family."

Patrick nodded. "Well done, my dear. Brett should find it hard to resist finding out who did it, and so should his dad. If they refuse, it may tell us something."

"That they don't believe in hypnosis?" she suggested.

"Nonsense. Hypnosis exists whether they believe in it or not." He waved off her misgivings.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it," she grumbled.

"Yes, I do," he admitted. "Just like I know you blame me for Liam's actions and are frustrated that you can't think of a fitting punishment for him."

"It's hard to punish him for something we don't want anyone to know he did. I have half a mind to have him confess to SacPD."

"You never turned me in," Patrick pointed out.

She sighed.

"Anyway, it balances out the fact that he confessed to something he wasn't guilty of," he said. "He told the police he put the coke in the car to protect his sister. He put that note in Brett's papers for the same reason. You can't tell me you wouldn't have done something similar for one of your brothers. I know you would have, just like you punched Donny Culpeper so J.J. wouldn't find out I hired him to break into his house."

He had her there, she had to admit. She had covered for him time after time because she wanted to help him catch Red John, and, though she would never have admitted it back then, she loved him. How could she do less for her son?

"You're hung up on the lesson he might draw from getting away with it," Patrick continued. "That the end justifies the means."

"I never could convince you otherwise," she said.

"Yes, but Liam has the strong moral compass my upbringing denied me. I'm sure Father Gregory will give him a suitable penance after he confesses, along with a chat about why he shouldn't do things like that," Patrick said. "And he will feel guilty, which will be even worse since he can neither admit nor apologize for his deed."

Teresa looked at him, remembering all the times she'd wondered whether he ever felt remorse for the things he did, the hurt feelings he caused. She knew now that he did, at least when he judged the person affected worthy of it.

He was right; Liam would regret any harm he'd done. And that gave her an idea for his punishment. "If this works, we'll take both the kids with us."

Patrick frowned. "I'd planned to go alone."

"There's no way Victoria will let you, and I want to go along to minimize any damage," she replied. "We won't want to leave Liam home alone, so he goes with us. Maybe seeing how he made Brett's mother feel will cure him of the urge to concoct ruses."

"You're a hard, hard woman, Teresa Lisbon." He shook his head. "Liam's a good kid. They both are. You did commendable work bringing them up to be good, honest people, to the point where I find the idea of either of them becoming a con artist laughable. I think you can relax a little. Their characters are fully formed by now."

Teresa looked at him closely, wondering if he was right. Maybe she was too hard on them sometimes; she'd always tried to ensure that the fierce intelligence and skills they gained from their father would never be used for selfish or immoral schemes. But she did that because she loved them and wanted them to build fulfilling lives that would make them happy, never experiencing the tragedy and guilt their father had. "I don't think that's true. I did a lot of maturing at college and after."

"Maturing, yes. But your character was already formed. That didn't change."

He might have a point, but she wasn't interested in debating it right now. "So what do you think we should do? Pat him on the back and ask if he has any other ideas?"

"That would be going a bit far." Patrick was silent for a moment. "It would be good for him to see the unintended consequences of a good ruse so he can try to mitigate them in the future."

"So we're agreed, then?" That was a little too easy, she thought.

"Yes."

"Good. Your punishment is that you have to explain why he's getting this particular punishment."

Patrick grimaced. He'd always disliked disciplining the twins. "Why am I being punished?"

"For teaching him pickpocketing."

He tried his best kicked puppy look, so she could only be relieved when Belle started barking, running to the front door. Teresa followed, frowning at the black SUV coming up the drive. "Are we expecting anybody?"

"No," Patrick replied. He got up, grabbed his crutches, and came to stand beside her. "It's Stan Moore."

Teresa relaxed. "I wonder why he didn't call first." Then a horrifying thought struck her. "Could they have evidence Liam did it?"

"The FBI doesn't care about notes passed at school," Patrick said. "I'm betting this is about Gibbons."

That was far more likely, she realized. "I'll put some coffee on."

From the kitchen, she heard Belle and Patrick greet Moore. When the coffee was brewing, she went back to the living room to do the same. "Hi, Stan. Coffee?"

"I'd love some." His smile didn't conceal his weariness and anxiety. "I've come to convince your husband to come out of retirement for a day or two."

"Oh?" She glanced at Patrick as he sat down and realized that he didn't know what was going on yet.

"We have three suspects in Gibbons' death. All agents. I think we're going to need some unconventional thinking to find out which one is guilty."

Teresa nodded. An internal investigation was always tricky.

Patrick said, "That was fast. How sure are you that you're not bring led?"

"Fairly sure. But of course the murderer could plant evidence. I hate this." Moore sat down with a sigh. "They've put me in charge, since I'm assigned to San Francisco so I'm technically an outside investigator, besides the fact this appears related to the Visualize and Red John cases. So I'll be in town a while."

Patrick said, "You know your people. What do your instincts tell you?"

"I need a lot more than instinct to point a finger at a fellow agent," Moore retorted.

"So that's why you want mine."

"You're still a legend around here," Moore said wryly. "Just the word that you're coming in might make the guilty party lose his nerve and do something stupid."

Patrick gave his "aw, shucks" grin. "That would be nice. But you agents have plenty of nerve, in my experience."

Teresa asked, "Is that why you didn't call—afraid someone was listening?"

Moore nodded. "Whoever this is will certainly be keeping tabs on the case. I turned off my GPS, too. I don't want to draw attention to you if you decide to steer clear."

"That's not an option," Patrick said. "He was following Teresa. He was possibly responsible for hurting my daughter. We are involved whether we want to be or not."

Moore nodded. "I wasn't sure you wouldn't just pull up stakes and head for DC."

Patrick shrugged. "Without knowing what's going on, we can't be sure we'd be safe there either."

"Also, Grace Rigsby called me. She's been checking on the Red John disciples we caught, seeing if anybody's been released or died in prison. There must be a reason this is happening now."

"Let's move into the kitchen," Teresa suggested as the coffeemaker beeped. "Did she find anything?" She guessed the answer was no, or she'd have heard from Grace directly.

"Not doing that, no. But then she had another idea, one she needed resources for." Moore followed her into the kitchen and held out a chair for Patrick, helping prop his crutches against the wall. "She thought it might be because something happened to one of the ones we didn't catch, who went to ground."

Patrick hummed a little as he thought. "Clever. It makes sense those people would keep in touch, help each other. Find anything?"

"One thing. A woman died from an overdose in Grand Island, Nebraska three months ago. Turns out she'd been living under a false name. Her real name was Allison Kuykendall. Ring any bells?"

Teresa frowned. "No."

"She was the yoga instructor at the facility where you were held."

"Allie?" Teresa was stunned. "An overdose? But she was a health nut. What happened to her?" Despite the fact that Allie had refused to help her escape, she'd been as close to a friend as she'd had in that awful place. Teresa had intentionally left her off the list of people who'd cooperated with Red John's scheme to keep her captive.

Moore shrugged. "Life on the run is no picnic. But it appears she ran off with a boyfriend, who by all accounts was no Prince Charming."

"I remember her talking about him," Teresa said. "He was an artist, I think."

"Maybe, but his main occupation seems to have been drugs, at least in later years. He died six months ago."

"Poor Allie," Teresa sighed.

Patrick said, "Brought up in Visualize, I seem to recall you telling me. Women raised by dysfunctional parents often end up trying to save a dysfunctional mate."

Teresa shot him a look, wondering if he was drawing a parallel with their early relationship. But he continued, "What about her family?"

"Parents are dead," Moore said. "She had one younger brother, whereabouts unknown. He left the cult about a year before Red John's death."

"So let me get this straight," Teresa said. "The theory here is that someone blames me for ruining Allie's life and causing her death eighteen years later and is stalking my daughter in revenge? That's pretty far fetched, don't you think?"

"It's all we have so far, but we're continuing to look," Moore said.

"What about the doctor, Mitchell?" Teresa asked. "If anybody thinks I ruined her life, I bet she does."

"We checked on her. As you know, she cut a deal so she didn't serve time, but she lost her medical license. She's still overseas, working with an international healthcare charity. It doesn't look like she has the resources or interest."

Teresa thought how unfair it was that the doctor, who'd been a Red John disciple, had found redemption while Allie, who'd been kind and seemed to cooperate with Red John's plan mostly out of fear, had apparently fallen into a hard life and addiction.

Patrick reached over and took her hand, uncurling the fist she didn't realize she'd made and sliding his fingers between hers. She immediately felt better, relaxing a little. Even now, remembering her captivity still made her tense, but Patrick's touch brought her back to the present.

It also reminded her that she was not the only one with bad memories of that time. She glanced at him, noting the lines around his mouth that deepened when he was stressed.

Moore continued, "We'll keep looking, of course. Keeping in mind that this is only one possible motive."

Patrick said, "Another would be revenge for Red John's death, of course. That would be aimed at me, but targeting my children is worse than anything they could do to me, and it doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"No, it doesn't," Moore agreed. "Motive would be helpful to know, but there are too many suspects to rely on that alone. Which is why you should help us find Gibbons' killer. They're almost certainly involved in the larger plot."

Patrick grimaced. "Who are your suspects? Do I know them?"

"Three agents were in the vicinity in the right timeframe, with no witnesses. Taylor Crenshaw from white collar crimes—I'm not sure you've ever met. And then there's SAC Mark King, who would be a total nightmare to investigate." Moore sighed, looking his age for once, Teresa thought.

"And the third?" Patrick didn't appear to have an opinion about King, as far as she could tell, which was interesting. She wasn't well acquainted with either man.

Moore's gaze turned to Teresa. "I think you both knew him, back in the day at least. Reede Smith, Gabe Mancini's old partner."

Patrick's fingers twitched as Teresa drew in a sharp breath. "He's still around?" she asked. "Why hasn't he been promoted to a bigger office?"

"He was. About a year after Red John, he transferred to L.A., then the regional office in Denver. He requested to come back here as an SAC a few months ago, apparently with an eye to retiring in the area."

Teresa tried to remember what she knew about Smith, but she'd always focused on Mancini. Patrick said, "Interesting. We looked into him at the time but didn't find any connection to Visualize."

"Not all the Red John disciples were in Visualize," Moore said. "I take it you'd like to start with him?"

"Yes," Patrick said. "But not at the office. Somewhere he'll be off his guard. Find out where he hangs out after work."

"Ah, the ambush," Moore smiled. "Just like old times."

Teresa said, "Remember, that doesn't always go well. And Jane can't run like he used to."

"I'm painfully aware of how spectacularly these things can go wrong," Moore said, "but this is sensitive. I don't want to bring in anybody else in the Sacramento office, or even San Francisco, given how much interaction those two offices have. Any of your old friends available? The Rigsbys? I know they're at the San Francisco office, but we could trust them."

Patrick shook his head. "I don't want them involved. They have kids to consider. We could fly Cho out, maybe."

Both men looked at Teresa. She said, "I'm sure he'd come if we asked. But I hate to pull him off the job while I'm not there either."

Patrick shrugged. "Explain things to Abbott. I bet he'd be happy to send your entire team out if it means stopping all this before it goes public. The FBI looked plenty bad last time with Mancini's involvement; they don't want it all over the news again."

"Agreed," Moore said. "If it'll help, I'll contact Abbott myself and make the request. It makes sense—you two and Cho know the original case better than anyone. And given that two of the three suspects are SACs, I could use some help from outside California."

Patrick nodded. "If it gets out, the guilty party will be reassured that you're desperate. That'll give us room to spring our trap."

"Great. And here I thought my days of Jane traps were over," Moore said wryly. "I'll call Abbott first thing in the morning."

Teresa said, "Stan, you know you're welcome to stay here while you're working in the Sacramento office."

"Thanks, but if someone comes after me I don't want your kids nearby," Moore replied. "I'm staying at a hotel on this side of town though, so I'm close if you need me."

Teresa shivered a little. She hated being back in a situation where they couldn't trust fellow law enforcement officers, to the point where their personal safety—and that of their family—was in question. Patrick squeezed her hand, though she wasn't sure if he was offering or seeking reassurance.

She took a deep breath. "I'm going to add you to the notification list for the alarm system," she said.

"Good idea," Patrick said. "And we should let the kids know this is getting riskier. Though I imagine they will figure that out when Cho gets here."

"Are you sure you don't want to send them to DC?" Moore asked. "One of you would have to go with them, but—"

Teresa shook her head. "If Cho is coming here, we'd have no backup there. No."

"Agreed," Patrick said immediately. "We'll keep our home field advantages. Can you find out who Smith's had contact with since he came back?"

"Not legally. There's not enough for a warrant."

Teresa said, "I'll ask Grace, see if she can do it without leaving any traces. You think it's him?"

"We suddenly have a resurgence of Visualize attention with Red John's cleanup method just when he comes back to town. It's got to be connected." Patrick frowned. "Of course he could just be a misdirect. But Crenshaw is too young to have been involved with Red John, and King is from Texas, with no past in California. Smith is the most likely suspect."

Moore finished his coffee. "I've been off the grid long enough. I'll call Abbott tomorrow from my office phone and ask for his help, see if anybody gets rattled. You guys keep your eyes open. Hopefully we'll have reinforcements tomorrow."

"Cho will be on the first flight out," Patrick predicted. "We'll meet here for dinner."

"Sounds good." Moore got to his feet. "Don't get up, Jane."

Patrick sighed but didn't argue. Teresa said, "I'll walk you out, Stan."

At the front door, Moore said, "Will you have Cho stay here?"

"I'd like him to," Teresa replied. "Can we keep Jane out of the field?"

"We can try." Moore looked dubious. "Can your kids protect themselves?"

"They've had basic self defense, but with Victoria's arm out of commission, I'd rather not rely on that. They know how to shoot, but we both know that shooting on a range and doing it in an actual scary situation are two different things." Maybe she should key the gun safe to them just in case, she thought. "I prefer not to leave them home alone until this is finished."

"It's a good thing we'll have more people then. Good night, Lisbon. Try not to worry."

"We have a good alarm system, a loud dog, and my gun," she said, sounding more assured than she felt. "You be careful."

"I will be. I'll call Abbott at first light in DC, so I imagine you'll hear from Cho shortly afterward."

"I'll give him a heads up tonight." It was nearly midnight, but she knew he'd want to know.

"Good." He went to his car and waved before he got in. She watched him drive away until he disappeared around the bend, then went back inside.

Patrick was still at the table. "I texted Cho." He held up his empty cup and saucer. "More hot water, please?"

She did as he asked, then handed him a new teabag. "What did he say?"

"He'll let us know when he's got a flight."

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a text from Cho. _You want Wylie and Vega too?_

 _If they're willing_ , she texted back.

 _They will be_ , he responded. _See you tomorrow._

 _Thanks._ She smiled a little as she put her phone back in her pocket. "Cho's bringing Wylie and Vega."

"They're married, right? So nobody has to sleep on the couch," Patrick said. "Cho can have the futon in the office. I'll order in some groceries tomorrow so we're stocked."

She was glad to see him in host mode. Hopefully it would keep him from obsessing over the twins' safety. "Good."

Patrick looked closely at her. "They're your team, but you haven't known them long. Any doubts, even an inkling?"

"None," she said firmly. "But if you're more comfortable sending them to a hotel, that's okay."

"No. If you trust them near the kids, that's enough for me. I look forward to getting to know them. Coffee drinkers, I assume? I'd better get more."

"Be nice. No hazing," she warned, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"No hazing. Just getting acquainted," he agreed, smiling up at her. "It'll be like old times, the team hanging out at our place. Though I hope Wylie doesn't have Rigsby's appetite."

"He doesn't. Sit him in front of a screen and he'll forget to eat if he's not reminded." She refilled her coffee mug and sat down. "You have a theory?"

"Someone's definitely intent on resurrecting the past," he mused. "Maybe this isn't about Victoria after all. Maybe it's all aimed at us."

"You looked hard at Reede Smith after I was taken. You didn't find anything?"

"No. But I always wondered how his partner could be in league with Red John and he didn't even suspect."

"You could say the same about us and Bertram."

He shook his head. "Not a fair comparison. We never trusted him, and we didn't work closely with him. The apt comparison would be if, say, Van Pelt had turned out to be a disciple."

"O'Loughlin was close enough," Teresa sighed. "We had no idea until he shot me."

Patrick frowned. "We'll think of a better way this time."

"I'd prefer that." She sipped her coffee, but Patrick was deep in thought, not in the mood to chat. "I'll go put clean sheets on the guest bed and futon."

"Hm? Oh, thanks," he murmured.

Teresa smiled a little, then went to go prepare for the impending house party.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Sorry this has been so long in coming! Work, writer's block, home improvement projects, illness—you name it, it distracted me. But I hope I'm back on track now. Thanks for continuing to read despite my erratic posting!

* * *

 **Chapter 21**

Patrick got up to fix his family breakfast and see them off, then cleaned up and did some Sudoku puzzles while he waited for Teresa to return. Belle dozed at his feet, snuffling a little as she dreamed her doggy dreams. Sometimes he envied her simple life—or perhaps it was her innocence. She never had to worry about devious people; the only threats she saw were straightforward, and she dealt with them by barking furiously and charging head-on at whatever she perceived as dangerous to her family.

He had always tended to run from danger himself, except where his vengeance was concerned, or Teresa's safety. Even with all the good reasons to stay put, part of him wanted to pack their bags and whisk the twins off to Washington. Or maybe Australia.

But there was safety in numbers, and having Cho close by was more protection than distance could ever be. He was less certain about Wylie and Vega, but Teresa was a good judge, and she wouldn't bring them into their children's lives if she had doubts. He'd have to trust her until he could see for himself.

Belle started barking, then got up and trotted to the door. Patrick heard a car engine, but as Belle kept barking, he realized it wasn't Teresa. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled toward the door, frowning as he looked through the peep hole.

A black SUV rounded the curve, and Patrick's heartbeat sped up before he realized it wouldn't be someone with devastating news about Teresa, since she wasn't on duty. But he wasn't expecting anyone until much later in the day. The tinted windows prevented him from seeing how many people might be in the vehicle. Was this an attack?

Teresa's gun safe was upstairs; on crutches, he'd never get to it in time. The days when they'd kept weapons stashed everywhere had ended when the twins started to crawl. He could let Belle out in hopes she might slow whoever it was, but that seemed a betrayal of her loyalty. He wouldn't send her out to fight his battle, knowing she might be hurt.

The SUV came to a halt in front of the house, and Patrick drew a deep breath as the driver's door swung open. Then he let it out in a whoosh as he recognized Cho.

Opening the door, he grinned as Belle ran over, quieting and wagging her tail as she recognized Cho even though she hadn't seen him in years. Patrick made his way to the porch as Cho grabbed his bag from the back seat and bent to pet Belle.

"You're early," Patrick called.

"Took the red eye. Figured I wouldn't sleep anyway," Cho replied as he came toward the house, Belle trotting at his side. "I stopped by the field office and picked up my ride, but I could use some good coffee."

"Then come in," Patrick smiled. "I take it Abbott approved your leave."

"No. He sent us out here to make sure the Red John case doesn't have a sequel." Cho grimaced. "Whatever this is, we need to stop it and clean house here in Sacramento. Lisbon and I know the territory and the old case, and Wylie and Vega will bring a fresh perspective."

"Plus, not knowing anyone here, they won't be swayed by personal considerations," Patrick added, maneuvering through the door, which Cho held open for him. "Are they with you?"

"Later flight. They'll be in after lunch. You sure you wouldn't rather we go to a hotel? It's a case, so the FBI will pay."

"I'd rather have you here," Patrick assured him. "I'll take all the security for the kids I can get."

"Okay."

"I plan to put the others upstairs in the guest room and you in my office," Patrick continued. "Unless you'd rather pull rank."

"The futon's fine," Cho replied, heading for the office to drop his bag. When he returned, he said, "This place hasn't changed much."

Patrick smiled, remembering the times Cho had been here before, when the twins were little and he still worked in Sacramento. "Why mess with perfection?"

"Your new place is totally different."

Patrick shrugged. "Teresa is my home. Buildings and furniture aren't important."

Cho digested that, then said, "Yeah, we got that when you started living in the CBI's attic."

"Have a seat. I'll make some coffee."

"No, I'll do it. Sit down before you fall down." Cho went into the kitchen as Patrick sat down. He heard cabinet doors opening and closing, but Cho must have remembered where most things were, because he returned after only a minute or so.

When he came back, he sat in one of the chairs, and Belle sat at his feet, whining a little. He looked down at her. "I don't have any food, so you might as well stop."

Patrick chuckled. Cho wasn't big on animals, but as a puppy Belle had done her best to win him over. Sure enough, after a short staring contest, Belle rolled over on her back, looking at Cho expectantly. One corner of his mouth lifted as he reached down to rub her belly, reducing her to wriggling doggy ecstasy.

"Thanks for coming," Patrick said after a moment.

"I told you, it's a case."

"But you'd have come either way."

Cho shrugged, still looking at Belle. "So I don't need thanked, either way. Where's Lisbon?"

"She took the kids to school and then was going to run a few errands. She'll be back soon." Patrick looked forward to seeing her surprise.

"So what's your plan for Reede Smith?"

Patrick was pleased to find Cho hadn't forgotten how he worked. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

Cho frowned. "You're not going to bury him alive, are you?"

"Oh, that's a much better idea," Patrick said with fake enthusiasm. Cho didn't fall for it, though, so he relented. "I was thinking more along the lines of unnerving him with anonymous notes saying 'we know what you did.' That kind of thing. He'll freak out, maybe try to dispose of any loose ends."

"So we'll need round the clock surveillance," Cho nodded. "Unless you know of some evidence he'll go after."

"Once it's known we're looking into the old Red John case files, he'll probably feel compelled to take a look at whatever we had on him."

"Which was nothing."

"He won't know that."

Cho gave the impression of a snort. "Just like old times."

"Now you're getting it." Patrick grinned.

"Nice to know you haven't gone soft in retirement," Cho said, his tone providing no clues as to whether he was being sarcastic.

"On the contrary, I have plenty of investigative energy stored up. Think the rookies can deal with it?"

"They're hardly rookies. Wylie started as a tech analyst twenty years ago and went into the field about five years later. Vega started out at West Point and opted for Quantico after her dad died. She got hurt bad her first year in the field and did some time on desk duty afterward, but she's spent the rest of her career in the field. They're both solid agents."

"I meant rookie in the sense that they've never worked with me."

"This'll go faster if you resist the urge to haze them," Cho remarked.

"But where's the fun in that? How long have they been working together?"

"They started dating after Vega got shot. When Vega went back into the field, I guess Wylie wanted to be close by, so he found a spot on her team."

Patrick could identify with the urge to protect a loved one, even if it meant putting himself in danger. "No kids?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Never asked."

Belle interrupted the conversation by getting up and trotting to the door with a welcoming woof. "Ah, Teresa's home," Patrick said.

Cho got up as they heard a car door slam. A few seconds later, Teresa opened the front door, smiling as she saw Cho. "You're early."

"I never waste time on a case," he replied. "Abbott assigned us to find out what's going on. Wylie and Vega will be here later today. Can we meet with Moore?"

"I'm sure he'll make time, especially if it's over a meal," Teresa said. "Patrick, will you call him?"

"Of course. Cho was just bringing me up to speed on the rest of the team." Seeing her nose twitch adorably, he added, "After he made coffee."

Teresa smiled a little. "I'll grab myself a cup. Want some more tea while I'm at it?"

"Yes, please."

"I need a refill," Cho said, picking up his mug and following her into the kitchen.

Patrick listened to them chat for a moment, then pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was time to get to work.

mmm

Moore couldn't make it to lunch but promised to join them for dinner, so Cho and Teresa headed into the Sacramento office to officially start their investigation, primed with ideas from Patrick. He decided to stay home where it was quiet enough to think until Teresa brought the kids and the rest of their guests home.

He had numerous hunches about what might be their best move, but until he had a better idea of how Smith reacted to the news of the investigation, he didn't have a definite plan. He would end up going to see for himself, no doubt, but there was no harm in letting Smith stew for a day or two while Patrick's ankle healed.

Teresa and the twins arrived home on time, which he appreciated since it greatly lessened the time he spent imagining all the things that could have happened to them. He had a pot of tea and a selection of cheese and crackers waiting, which Liam devoured in an alarmingly short time while Victoria opted for carrots and celery. The four of them sat at the table, and Patrick thought how nice it was to have Teresa home for the after-school ritual, which had grown more rare since the twins began taking up extracurricular activities.

Victoria said, "So Uncle Cho is here? When will we see him?"

"Dinner," Patrick said. "And I'm sure your mother told you that two more agents are coming with him. Plus Stan Moore."

"War room, huh?" Liam remarked.

"No," Teresa said, "that is what's happening at the office. What's happening here is dinner. Then we will all separate to do our homework."

The twins scowled, but she ignored them, getting up. "In fact, I should be getting back. What time do you want us for dinner?"

Patrick suppressed a sigh. The family time had been nice while it lasted. "I'd say six, but I know you workaholics, so I'll push it back to seven."

She smiled, bending to give him a quick kiss. "We won't be late," she promised. Then she patted Belle on the head. "Keep him in line for me, huh, girl?"

Belle wagged her tail but didn't get up from her spot at Patrick's feet. She knew an imminent departure when she saw one. They both let out a little sigh as Teresa left.

Victoria said, "I'm going out to see Blueberry. Can Brett come over tonight? I promised to help him with our chemistry homework."

"We have a full house tonight," Patrick replied. "You can do your homework over Skype."

She scowled but didn't protest, getting up and heading outside. Liam gulped down the rest of his tea. "You guys have a plan?"

"Of course."

Liam rolled his eyes. "But you're not going to tell me what it is?"

"There's no need for you to worry about the details, but we have a suspect who happens to be an FBI agent, so we're setting up a sting of sorts. It'll all happen at the office."

"But Mom won't be in any danger, will she?"

Patrick made sure his smile was convincing. "With Cho around? Not a chance."

"And you're staying here?"

"Unless I'm needed. But your mom and Cho tend to think they do better without worrying about me, at least when I'm not a hundred percent."

Liam was still frowning, and Patrick realized that he was confronting his mother's risks on the job as more than a vague abstract for the first time. He and Teresa had been out of the field since the kids were old enough to understand, so this was new for them.

"Your mom and Cho are the best agents I've ever seen. And Moore is no slouch either. Plus, they'll have trustworthy backup."

"How long will it take?"

"Ah, that's the question." Patrick shrugged. "It depends on a number of variables, including the suspect's nerves. But not long, I suspect."

"Good." Liam looked somewhat reassured as he got up and left the room. Patrick heard him go up the stairs, and a few minutes later music began to drift downstairs. Liam was playing a classical piece on his electric guitar, since his acoustic instrument was in DC. Patrick recognized the piece, so he knew when Liam began improvising.

It was good his children had hobbies to escape into when they were anxious, he reflected. But he'd rather they weren't anxious in the first place. He needed to make sure they got information out of Smith as efficiently as possible.

mmm

Teresa arrived home a few minutes ahead of their guests, coming into the kitchen to kiss Patrick hello and check that he didn't need help. "Smells great," she said, smiling as she lifted the lid of the saucepan. "Homemade marinara?"

"I figured I'd keep it simple until I get a sense of our guests' tastes," he replied.

"The kids upstairs?"

"Yes, getting a jump on their homework so they can eavesdrop on us later," he replied. "Anything interesting happen?"

"Smith dropped by to say hello," she said. "Commiserated with me and Cho over cases that won't stay closed."

"Interesting," Patrick mused. "Which case of his is being reopened?"

"None that we can tell. Wylie is doing some digging. Cho and I helped Moore question a bunch of people, including King, which was fun." She grimaced. "We skipped Smith on purpose, but Wylie sent an untraceable email implying that someone has the goods on him. He apparently hangs out at a sports bar in his neighborhood, according to his car's GPS, so we thought we'd try him there tomorrow."

"I'd like to be there for that."

"I thought you might. There. Now we don't need to talk shop over dinner." Teresa smiled wryly. "That reminds me, Stan can't make it after all. He'll see us tomorrow."

"Too bad," he said. "Can you put the water on to boil? It's hard to carry it with crutches."

"Sure."

Patrick sat at the table and enjoyed watching Teresa move around the kitchen. He was aware that once they dealt with the current case, she'd be back on a plane to Washington, so he wanted to stock up his memory palace with these quiet moments of their family life.

Belle, who was watching Teresa intently in case she dropped something tasty, suddenly hurried into the living room and began barking. Jane got up, but by the time he'd settled himself on his crutches and made it to the front door, Teresa had already let their guests in, and the twins had come downstairs to meet them.

Teresa made introductions as Patrick sized up the new agents. "This is my husband, Patrick Jane, and our children, Victoria and Liam. Please welcome Jason Wylie and Michelle Vega."

Patrick smiled and indicated his crutches, skipping handshakes, as the twins stepped forward to offer theirs. The couple had to be about twenty years younger than himself and Teresa, but they were still old enough to be the twins' parents if they'd started young. Wylie still had a boyish face, and his blond hair nicely hid any grey, while Vega bore more signs of aging, probably due to her trauma early in her career. She was still attractive, with an intensity that reminded him a little of Teresa, and she didn't conceal her streak of grey hair on one temple, proclaiming that she was a rebel under the no-nonsense demeanor that spoke of a military upbringing.

"Thanks for coming," Patrick greeted them.

"Thanks for letting us stay here," Wylie replied with a grin. "Cho says your cooking is better than any restaurant."

"You can judge for yourself in a few minutes," Patrick said. He turned to Vega, who was bent over to pet Belle. "That's Belle. She's the adorable part of our security system."

Vega straightened. "I look forward to seeing the rest of it, sir."

"Just Patrick. Or Jane if you prefer; I answer to either. Do you like dogs?"

"Love them. We work weird hours so we don't have one, but someday I want one," she said. "I hear there's a pony as well."

Victoria said, "I'll introduce you after dinner if you want. Do you ride?"

Patrick decided things were going well without him and hobbled back to the kitchen to finish dinner. Teresa joined him a few minutes later with a wry smile. "How did we get to be less interesting than midlevel agents?"

"Familiarity breeds contempt, especially with teenagers," Patrick chuckled. "Anyway, I'm glad they're getting along. It'll make guard duty less unpleasant for both parties."

"True. What can I do to help?"

"Toss the salad," he replied, and they got to work.

mmm

Teresa forbade shop talk at the dinner table, and afterward Patrick handed out flashlights and led his guests on a perimeter tour of the property nearest the house, allowing them to talk about their day without the kids listening.

Wylie asked, "Should I sweep the house for bugs, just in case?"

"It wouldn't hurt," Teresa said. "Can you wait until the kids leave for school?"

"Sure."

Vega frowned. "Too many avenues of approach, with plenty of cover. There's no way to secure this place properly."

Patrick said, "No need to secure the property. Just the people."

"Wow, look at all the stars," Wylie said, staring up into the sky. "You don't get a view like this in the city."

Cho said, "Try it in the summer. You don't get bugs like that in the city either."

Vega asked, "Do Victoria and Liam come straight home, or will we need to keep an eye on them in the afternoons?"

"Victoria goes to check on her horse, but she can't ride right now," Patrick replied. "She's also on the prom committee, which meets after school. Liam's in a band, but they can practice in the barn most days."

"Patrick and I will be with them most of the time," Teresa said. "We'll only ask you to stay with them if both of us are needed on the case. My hope is that we can get to the bottom of whatever's going on quickly, before it impacts their lives any further."

Wylie said, "So you really think someone's dredging up all the Red John stuff again, after all this time?"

"We can't be sure," Teresa replied.

"Of course we can," Patrick argued. "Killing Gibbons exactly the way Rebecca Anderson was murdered has to be a sign. It's meant to make us afraid. Somebody's familiar with our history and using it for their own purposes."

Vega said, "So you didn't get all the Red John disciples back then. Why now? Why lay low until this exact time?"

"That's the question," Patrick said. He looked around at their faces, eerily illuminated by the flashlights, and realized it was a little chilly out. "But we won't solve it tonight. You must be tired after traveling so far. Let's turn in so we can face tomorrow fresh."

They started back toward the house, and Patrick looked up, catching sight of Victoria in her room, laughing. His heart squeezed a little at the sight. She was so precious to him, and soon she would be out in the world where he couldn't protect her. Had he done enough to prepare her? Would she be safe and wise?

Wylie, walking beside him, must have followed his gaze, because he said, "You have great kids."

"Yeah." Patrick cleared his throat. "We do. What about you? Any children?"

"No. It's, uh, it turned out we couldn't. Michelle had a lot of internal injuries from when she got shot. We tried to adopt, but it fell through. Twice. So we decided it wasn't meant to be. We have a good life though."

"Families come in all forms," Patrick remarked. He'd found one at the CBI, after all.

"That's true. Anyway, we see my sister's kids as much as we can, and that's fun."

"That's good. No child can have too many loving adults in their life." At least his children were fortunate in that respect.

"Yeah. Especially an uncle who knows all the gaming tricks."

Patrick chuckled.

mmm

"What's the matter?" Teresa asked as she joined Patrick under the covers that night. "You've been broody since we came back inside."

"Just thinking." He drew her into his arms and buried his face in her hair.

She slid a hand into his hair and started massaging his scalp, which made him begin to relax. "About what?"

"Life."

"Specifically?"

"The unfairness of it. The fragility of happiness. How some people are resilient and others aren't."

"Wow. You and Wylie must have had quite a chat."

"He was impressed with the kids. It made me remember how...not-inevitable they were. So many things could have happened that would result in us not having them."

Teresa sighed. "Yes. But none of those things happened, and we do have them. What's really bothering you?"

Patrick searched for the right words. "One of my children already paid for my mistakes. I don't want it to happen again."

She hugged him closer. "It won't. We'll figure this out, like we always do. And this isn't your fault."

"Of course it is. I'm the one who set out to kill Red John and ended up dismantling his network. I never thought about the other lives that would be disrupted."

"Hey, you didn't do it all by yourself," she reminded him wryly. "And if rounding up his disciples impacted other lives, that's on them, not us."

"Apparently at least one of them doesn't see it that way."

"That's no reason for you to buy into their worldview. Guilt is a distraction," she reminded him, her voice sharpening. "I expect you to be focused on solving this case and protecting our children, not wallowing."

Patrick couldn't help chuckling. "I love it when you get all authoritarian on me."

"Just don't make me kick you," she warned.

"I'm already on crutches, so I'll refrain from provoking you to violence." He kissed her.

"Good. Now get some sleep. We need you to work your old tricks tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, closing his eyes.

mmm

The morning started out smoothly. Teresa took the kids to school, then went to the office. Patrick stayed behind to clean up after breakfast while Wylie swept the house for listening devices.

"Uh," Wylie frowned at his scanner, coming into the kitchen from the living room.

"What's wrong?" Patrick braced himself against the sink so he could turn to face him.

Wylie held up a finger, but said, "Nothing. Everything's fine." He went over to the hutch in the corner and peered at the pieces of Teresa's mother's china displayed on its shelves. "Great breakfast, by the way. What was in that casserole?"

Patrick watched intently as Wylie carefully inspected each dish, then reached for the gravy boat. He held it up and grimaced.

"Just the unhealthy things," Patrick said in answer to his question. He nodded at the refrigerator, and Wylie went to it and put the gravy boat inside. "Good?"

Wylie consulted his scanner. "Yeah. Huh. Somebody bugged your house."

"And knows our plan." He and Teresa had discussed it in this room just yesterday. How many private conversations hadn't really been private? "What's the range on it?"

"Not far. Ten feet maybe. That's why it was hard to find. Also the fact that it's not transmitting far. It's piggybacking off your WiFi. Give me a few minutes and I can try to find out where the upload's going."

Patrick was glad they'd done the detailed plotting outdoors. But his stomach dropped as he realized that someone they'd trusted enough to invite into their kitchen had planted the bug. "Any way to tell how long?"

"If I can get to the uploads, maybe." Wylie sat down at the table with his laptop and began typing furiously.

At least it hadn't been the bedroom, Patrick thought, breathing deeply to calm himself. It seemed whoever was after them now wasn't interested in their sex life, and they hadn't targeted the twins. They'd chosen this family space, which seemed ominous. "Our phones?"

"Need to check them," Wylie replied, not looking up.

Patrick gritted his teeth with the effort it took to resist his impulse to call Teresa. Before he could think of what to do next, Belle began barking urgently at the front door.

That made Wylie look up. "Expecting anybody?"

"No." Patrick grabbed his crutches and went into the living room. He could see an SUV rounding the corner a little too fast, and his heart rate increased.

Wylie joined him, weapon drawn, and they watched as the SUV skidded to a stop in front of the house. Then a man stumbled out, blood soaking one sleeve, and ran to the front porch.

"It's Smith," Wylie said in surprise.

"Jane! Let me in!" Reede Smith yelled, pounding on the front door with his good arm. "They're going to kill me!"


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** Thanks for tolerating the cliffhanger in the last chapter. We are now in the fast-paced part of this story, apparently. I so appreciate all of you still reading!

 **Disclaimer** : I've lifted some of the dialog in this chapter from The Great Red Dragon episode. I'm making zero profit off any of this, though I did enjoy rewatching that episode!

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

Teresa and Cho were going over their notes from yesterday's interviews in Moore's office when Vega opened the door without knocking and slipped inside, closing it behind her. "Wylie just called me. Reede Smith is at your house," she said to Teresa.

"What? Is Patrick okay?" Teresa was on her feet before she was conscious of moving.

"Yes, he's fine. Smith was shot, but it's a flesh wound. He wants protective custody," Vega reported.

Moore said, "Let's go. Maybe this is the break we've been looking for."

Moore drove, which Teresa both appreciated and hated. She knew she would have driven too fast, but even Moore's modest speeding seemed like a crawl, and she had to clench her fists to keep from screaming in frustration. Patrick was busy; that was why he hadn't answered her texts. He wasn't hurt; Wylie had said so. Patrick was no doubt treating Smith's wound, using the knowledge he'd gained from the first aid class she'd teased him for taking when the twins were babies.

Belle was outside and came running to greet them, tail wagging and showing no sign of distress, which was reassuring. Teresa didn't stop to pet her, though, hurrying onto the porch and through the front door. "Patrick?"

"In here," he called from the kitchen, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her as she crossed the living room.

Pausing in the doorway, she took in the scene: Reede Smith sitting at the table in an undershirt, a bandage high on his left arm, with a first aid kit open in front of him; Patrick sitting beside him with his shirt sleeves rolled up, still wearing latex gloves; and Wylie standing by the sink with his weapon drawn but not aimed.

Patrick greeted her with a smile. "Teresa, glad you could make it. And the rest of you. Good. Agent Smith was just about to tell us about his morning."

Teresa claimed the chair next to Patrick, while Vega stood near Wylie and Moore took the chair on Smith's other side. Cho remained in the doorway, leaning against it with a deceptively casual air.

"What happened? Who shot you?" she asked Smith.

He gave her a grim look. "I didn't see who. It was a black SUV. Nearly ran me off the road, then next thing I know they're shooting at me. If it hadn't been for an oncoming car, they'd probably have finished me off. I did a U turn and followed that car. Figured I was safer with a witness."

Moore asked, "Any idea why?"

"You know why," Smith said bitterly. "You people dredged up all that Red John stuff again. Somebody thinks I know something."

Patrick said, "And you do, don't you? Otherwise you'd have gone to the emergency room instead of here."

Smith let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know anything recent. I thought it'd be safe to come back to Sacramento after all this time. I thought it was over."

"Yeah," Teresa said. "So did we."

Moore asked, "What exactly did you think was over? Were you one of Red John's people, like your partner Mancini?"

"No," Smith said firmly, his mouth twisting in disgust. Then he looked down. "Not intentionally. It was..." He broke off, then looked at Moore. "I want your promise you'll protect me."

"Absolutely," Moore replied.

"And I want immunity."

"That's a little tougher," Moore said. "I'd have to confer with the DA's office. And I'd have to know how good your information is and which crimes you could be prosecuted for."

Patrick said, "But we can promise not to put you in prison here in California. Because this is where the conspiracy is, right? Even after all this time."

"I don't know about that," Smith said. "All I know is, nobody ever bothered me in Denver. I should've stayed there."

Patrick nodded. "Yeah, you probably should have. But you didn't. And somebody got in touch again. Somebody from the bad old days."

"It doesn't work like that. It's all phone calls. You never know who. But they had the code phrase, and they knew what I'd done." Smith began to slump a little.

Patrick had that look, the one he got when he knew he was close to figuring it all out, she thought. "Killing Rebecca, or the original sin that sucked you into the web in the first place?"

Smith blinked at him in shock. "How do you know about that?"

Patrick smiled. "I didn't, until now. Not for sure. You were on our list of suspects for Gibbons' death, and it made sense that the M.O. was a deliberate choice. If you killed Gibbons, you killed Rebecca. And you definitely killed Gibbons. The person who told you to do it is the one who tried to shut you up this morning once he realized we were on to you."

Moore added, "You were set up. They meant for us to catch you."

Smith shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. The—the 'conspiracy' as you call it is supposed to be a network of law enforcement officers, judges, anybody who needs a secret covered up. You need a favor, you ask for it. You get asked to do something, you do it."

"Until Red John got involved," Patrick said. "Then suddenly people were asked to commit crimes instead of just helping each other out. Other than murdering Gibbons and Rebecca, what else have you done?"

Smith rubbed his face with his hands. "I didn't murder Rebecca Anderson. But I helped the one who did. I didn't know it at the time. Someone asked me to get FBI credentials so they could access CBI. After someone snuck in and poisoned her, that's when I knew I'd done a favor for a serial killer."

Patrick tapped his lips with a finger. Teresa could tell his mind was working quickly, probably running along avenues she'd never consider.

Moore said, "We know Haffner didn't kill her; he was out of town on a case at the time. And he wouldn't have needed credentials to get into CBI. So Jane, you think whoever killed her is the one we're dealing with now?"

"It makes sense. If he wants us to know it's him."

Teresa said, "What if it's a misdirect?"

"Possible. But it's still someone familiar enough with the situation to know Smith's role in it. Someone who knew about the conspiracy. What was the code phrase, by the way?" Patrick's tone was casual, but Teresa wasn't fooled.

"Tyger, tyger," Smith sighed.

"Ah. Blake. So this network of yours was separate from Visualize?"

"No connection that I know of. But I didn't know everybody. Just my little group."

Teresa had a sinking feeling. They'd been focused on the Visualize angle after Red John's death, dealing with wannabes trying to kidnap her again and identifying Visualize members in law enforcement. How had they missed this other conspiracy?

Moore must have had the same thought. "And they're still active?"

"I guess. At least one of them."

Wylie said, "If you tell me when you got the call, I can try to track the caller down."

"It was a couple of days ago," Smith hedged.

Teresa wasn't buying it. Something like that call was memorable enough that he'd be able to recall the day and approximate time. His evasion pointed to the fact that he'd been the actual killer in Gibbons' case. "How'd you get the poison?"

Smith gave her an annoyed look. "I'm not answering any questions about Gibbons until I get a deal."

She shrugged. "I don't care about Gibbons nearly as much as I care about keeping my kids safe. To do that, I have to find your contact."

"Good luck. I found a burner phone with a note saying Tyger, tyger. After the call, I got rid of it as instructed. It's in a landfill by now."

"What was the number?" Patrick asked.

Smith scoffed, "Like I remember."

"Of course you do. You may even have made note of it somewhere in case you needed leverage for a deal. But even if you weren't that smart, I can help you recall it."

"I'd have to be nuts to let you rummage around in my head. No."

Patrick leaned forward. "You'd have to be nuts to stand between me and the safety of my family."

"Get me a deal."

Patrick leaned back, feigning disappointment. "Too bad. We'll have to do this the hard way. You're free to go."

"Wait a minute," Vega protested. "We can't do that."

"Why not?" Patrick's eyes glinted with amusement as he glanced at Teresa.

"Because he's admitted to committing crimes!" Vega frowned.

"Meh. Forging FBI credentials probably has a statute of limitations or something. Anyway, if we arrest him, another one of his helpful pals will just kill him. That's a lot of bother just to end up with a corpse. If he runs, he might make it. Though I doubt it."

Smith turned to Moore. "You promised you'd protect me!"

"Sure. I'll take you to a safe house. I'll try to keep it under wraps. Hopefully none of your buddies will think to look for you in my custody." Moore didn't sound at all convincing, playing along with Patrick's gambit.

Smith groaned, rubbing at his face with both hands. "Okay, okay. I'll give you the number, okay? For all the good it'll do you. It'll just be a burner. The group's survived this long because they're careful."

"Yes." Patrick looked thoughtful. "Just like Red John's disciples were hard to spot because they were careful. But something tells me the person we're dealing with now isn't quite as careful. There've been too many loose ends. Too many clues. We went years between those with Red John."

Moore frowned. "Which means what?"

"Whoever this is wasn't originally part of either group. They want us to think they are, but they don't have the training, just the stories."

Wylie said, "Then let's have it. I'll track it down and see where it leads."

Smith mumbled a ten-digit number, and Wylie holstered his weapon and went into the living room, returning with his laptop and sitting at the other end of the table.

Cho said, "When we got clues on Red John, it was because he wanted us to have them. Why is this different?"

Patrick shrugged. "It has a different...bouquet. Young. Immature."

Cho and Moore glanced at each other. Teresa barely noticed, because she was having a moment of horrible suspicion. "Like a teenager?"

"Hm. Maybe not that immature. Perhaps I should say, inexperienced."

Teresa looked intently at him. "Is this the part where you've figured out who it is and just aren't going to tell us?"

"Alas, no. I still lack critical information." Patrick looked at Smith. "If this person wasn't part of either conspiracy back in the day, how did they find out about your role in Rebecca Anderson's murder?"

"Well, I certainly didn't tell anybody!"

"Hm." Patrick withdrew into his own thoughts.

Wylie said, "Yeah, it's a burner phone. Only one call, to another burner, which must be the one Smith had."

"Dead end," Moore said.

"Maybe." Wylie typed into his laptop, watching the screen intently.

Patrick said, "So how does it work, this secret club of helpful buddies? How did you get in?"

Smith scowled. "I needed a favor. Someone did me one. In return, I was in. Forever, apparently."

"What kind of favor?" Patrick asked.

"Why do you care?"

"Something illegal, I take it," Patrick continued, ignoring the question. "Criminal, even. And these mysterious helpers fixed it for you?" When Smith didn't answer, he prodded, "Just say it. Unburden yourself. Doubtless whatever evidence there was is long vanished."

Smith heaved a sigh. "Years ago, about five years before you caught Red John, I hurt my back. I was helping my cousin move a stupid couch. Doctor gave me some pain pills. Turns out I liked them. I got hooked before I even knew what was happening. So, I'm chasing a gangbanger down an alley in Carson Springs, and I'm out of it. I mean way out of it. I thought...I thought I was being followed." His voice thickened with emotion. "I shot a little girl. Twelve-year-old girl. Local cops took my blood; they had witnesses. They had me cold. Then this detective, he reaches out to me and he says they can make it all go away. And they did."

Vega protested, "The blood tests, the witnesses, all of it?"

"Hell, when they got done fixing it, the FBI gave me a medal."

Teresa couldn't help wrinkling her nose a little in distaste, thinking of that poor girl's family who'd been denied justice. The fact that other officers of the law had conspired to deny them that disgusted her. Had she worked with any of them over the years? How many were still out there?

The sooner she got her family out of California, the better.

Patrick said, "How did you kick the habit?"

"I tried to go cold turkey. Several times. Finally I started going to counseling. Off the books. I got clean, and I got the hell out of California as soon as I could." He looked around at them all. "I've been a good cop since then. I swear."

Moore said, "Good cops don't kill suspects in custody. No matter what kind of cop you were, you're a murderer now."

"Good luck proving it," Smith replied.

He had a point, Teresa thought. The evidence was circumstantial, unless they could tie him to the poison somehow. And his co-conspirator might be out there erasing evidence at this very moment.

Patrick said, "If you're smart, you'll confess. Let us keep you in custody. Work a deal with the DA using information about the conspiracy. Assuming the DA isn't in on it."

"I'm a sitting duck in jail."

"You're a sitting duck anywhere in California," Cho said. "But I've got connections in Texas. I can get you in a safe house in Austin."

That made sense; Teresa had thought about Wayne and Grace, but that would be too predictable for anyone familiar with their past. Cho's career after Red John might not be as clear to them.

She said, "You need to decide now. You can't be in this house when my children come home. I don't want them anywhere near you when someone tries to kill you again."

Patrick nodded. "I'm sure they've tracked you here by now. You can either go with Cho or on your own. Your choice." He stripped off his gloves and began to pack the first aid kit back up. "It's time for me to start lunch."

Cho said, "I'll go check outside." He looked at Teresa for confirmation.

She nodded to him, and he left. Then she noticed Wylie trying to get her attention without being obvious. "Wylie, Vega, with me," she said, getting up.

They followed her into Patrick's office, and she shut the door. "What's up?"

"I'm running a search of phones that pinged the same tower as the burner in the same time frame. It's a ton of data, so it'll take a while." Wylie looked uncertain. "Once we have that list, I can run it against any suspects we turn up. Assuming they were carrying both phones at the same time. But most people have a hard time leaving their phone behind."

"True. Good work. At least it's something," Teresa told him. "If Smith folds, are you two comfortable taking him to Austin?"

"Yes," Vega answered for both of them. "I know just the place for him."

"Good. Keep on the phone lead. I don't think it'll be long before you're on your way."

Wylie said, "I have a secure mobile hotspot. I can keep working while we travel."

"You'll need to be on alert the whole way there. Make sure no one follows you," she instructed.

"We got this," Vega assured her.

"Good. You should be able to go after lunch." Teresa left them to start on their arrangements and went back to the kitchen.

Patrick was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, chatting casually to Smith, who was beginning to sweat under Moore's watchful eye. "So where did you go to get clean? Were they part of your little club?"

"No idea. And I used a fake name and paid cash," Smith said.

"Wise of you. Presumably you went to someone used to these arrangements. A solo practitioner rather than a group practice."

"Yeah. A young guy, just starting out. But he was good. Why do you care?"

Patrick didn't answer. "What method did he use? Something to counteract the drugs? Or something more behavioral, like, say, hypnosis?"

"He gave me shots, yeah. But there was a lot of talking, too."

"But not about the girl you shot? Or Rebecca?"

"No way."

"Do you remember his name?"

Teresa wasn't fooled by Patrick's casual air as he seemed to focus on what he was doing. She watched Smith intently.

"Uh, he told me to call him by his first name. I called him Doctor Tom. Don't remember his last name."

Patrick had turned to look at him, but now went back to his sandwich making. "Disappointing. But I suppose you tried not to think about it once it was over."

"Yeah. I transferred out of California and tried to start over again. Look, what if I promise to retire, leave the FBI? I'll help you with this and then disappear."

"Fine by me, but I'm not the law," Patrick replied. "Should I make your sandwich to go, or are you going to be sensible?"

"Fine. I'll stick with you guys. Just keep me safe. I'll tell you whatever you want."

Patrick turned and smiled at him, but handed the plate with sandwich and chips to Teresa. "Eat up, my dear. We have a long afternoon ahead of us."

mmm

Lunch was hurried and tense, but Teresa could tell Patrick had gotten something promising from Smith that he wasn't ready to discuss. After they had all eaten, she and Cho went out to sweep the immediate area to make sure no one was lying in wait. Then they left Moore to keep watch with Patrick and escorted Smith, Wylie, and Vega to the airport.

As Wylie got out of the SUV, he looked at Teresa. "Hey, I almost forgot. You should probably dump that bug out in your barn or something. It'll help me track the upload if it stays active for a while."

"What bug?" she demanded.

"Uh, the one we found in your gravy boat. It's in the fridge, unless Jane moved it. We found it right before Smith showed up, so I guess we kind of forgot to mention it." He gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry."

Teresa was speechless for a moment. "Okay," she finally managed. "Thanks for telling me now. You guys be careful."

Vega said, "Don't worry. I'll let you know when we're on our way back." She gestured for Smith to move toward the airport entrance.

"Thanks. I guess," Smith muttered to Teresa.

"Good luck," she replied grudgingly.

She stayed with the car while Cho went in to see them safely on their way, keeping an eye on the clock and wondering if she should go back to the office rather than home, since she needed to pick the kids up from school in a couple of hours. No, she wanted to deal with the bug and see if she could get Patrick to tell her his hunches.

Her phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket since she hadn't connected it to the SUV's Bluetooth. It was Liam's number. "Liam? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom."

She could hear a lot of background noise, and his voice wasn't that of a happy young man. "What's going on?"

"There was a bomb threat at school, so we all had to come outside. But I can't find Victoria. Nobody's seen her since she left her classroom. Brett and I looked everywhere and asked everybody. Either she's still inside for some reason or she's not on campus anymore."

"I'm on my way. Did you tell the principal?"

"Yeah, but she's busy with the fire department."

"And you tried calling her phone?"

"Yeah, of course. It went to voicemail after one ring."

Teresa swallowed hard, trying to stay calm. "Maybe she dropped it."

"Maybe." Liam wasn't convinced. "Should I call Dad? I didn't want him to freak out and try to drive."

"Stan's with him. Go ahead and call him, but tell him I'm on my way to you and I'm calling the school security office now."

"Okay."

"And Liam?" She couldn't bear to hear the fear in his voice.

"Yeah?"

"It's going to be okay. I'll see you in a minute."

"Okay."

Teresa hung up and got out of the car, going around to the passenger seat as Cho came out of the airport. "What's up?" he asked.

"Victoria's missing. We need to get to her school." She closed the door and dialed the school as she put on her seatbelt.

Cho slid into the driver's seat, belted up, and flipped on the siren as he put the car in gear.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay—life has been a roller coaster lately. But to make up for it, here's an extra long chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 **Chapter 23**

Patrick grudgingly accepted Moore's help cleaning up lunch, weary of hopping around on his good foot. As he loaded the dishwasher, Moore put condiments and leftovers away.

"Why is there a gravy boat in your fridge?"

Patrick turned quickly, nearly losing his balance. "Leave it. Close the door."

Moore was taken aback by his sharp tone, but complied. "Secret recipe?"

"Bug. Wylie found it this morning. We put it in there for safekeeping. It's not a very powerful one, apparently."

"Huh." Moore frowned. "Any ideas about who planted it?"

"Nothing concrete. I haven't had time to check the security system logs yet, but there haven't been any alarms. And Belle wouldn't let a stranger in the house. The most logical explanation is that someone we know planted it, someone we invited in." Patrick grimaced. "Wylie didn't tell me how long it's been there, so I haven't been able to develop a definitive list of suspects."

"But you have a hunch."

"More than one, actually."

Moore rolled his eyes. "Naturally. The fridge strikes me as a risky place to keep it, though. If I were you, I'd get it out of the house."

"Be my guest. Feel free to throw it in the pond. Or in the barn; whoever it is can listen to Liam's band all they want." Patrick didn't want to be reminded of this intrusion into his family's privacy, likely by someone they knew. But he knew he had to.

"Did Wylie get everything he needed?"

"I'm not sure. He talked about a cloud server, but then we got sidetracked."

Moore frowned. "Did you and Lisbon talk about Smith in here?"

"Yes. Which explains why someone decided to get rid of him." Patrick felt dread trickle down his spine. "And having failed at that, they'll try something else."

"Right. I'll keep an eye out while I relocate the bug." Moore carefully fished it out of the gravy boat, handing the dish to Patrick on his way out the door.

Patrick carefully put the gravy boat back in its usual place. Teresa wasn't overly sentimental, but she treasured her mother's china. He still remembered the first time he'd seen it, the night he'd signed the papers selling his old house to one of Red John's holding companies. She'd unpacked a cup and saucer for his tea, hoping to make it easier for him. It hadn't, but even now he was touched by the memory of the gesture.

His phone rang, and he turned back to the table, sitting down and picking it up. "Liam? What's wrong?"

"Don't freak out," Liam began. Even as his heart rate increased, Patrick reflected on the tendency of even intelligent people to subvert their intentions with their word choices. Telling a parent not to freak out was surely the fastest way to make them do so.

"Okay, I'm sitting calmly," Patrick said when it appeared Liam was waiting for a response.

"There was a bomb threat at school and we all had to come outside, and now I can't find Vic. Mom's on her way. She said she was calling the office too."

Patrick swallowed, feeling numb as he absorbed the news. Their enemy had made his next move, and he'd gone straight for Victoria.

"Dad? You okay?"

Patrick blinked. "I'm on my way."

"Okay. They're letting us back in. I'm going to talk to the principal, so I'll meet you at the office."

At least one of them was thinking clearly. "Okay. Be careful."

"You too."

"Love you," Patrick remembered to say as Liam hung up. He wasn't sure his son had heard him.

Pushing back from the table, he forgot about his injured ankle until he tried to stand on it. Letting out a yelp of pain, he leaned on the table to catch his breath.

"Jane?" Moore called from outside. A few seconds later he burst through the door, gun drawn.

"I'm okay," Patrick gasped. "Victoria's missing. We need to get to the school."

Moore handed him his crutches. "Let's go."

mmm

The school parking lot looked normal except for the black SUV boldly occupying the no-parking zone outside the main entrance. Moore parked behind it, still turning the engine off as Patrick pushed his door open and launched himself onto the sidewalk, staggering a little as he got his crutches under him.

There were so many memories associated with this school, and pictures of Victoria through the years tumbled around in his head, mixed with his horrifying last sight of Charlotte, bloody and still. He shook his head to clear it. He couldn't give in to fear. His daughter needed him. He could still save her, if he was smart enough. He had to keep believing that.

Moore hurried to get the school door open, then followed Patrick to the office. The vice principal, Jared Gordon, an affable young man Patrick had met several times, greeted them. "We've got all the students locked in their classrooms. No one else is missing," he told them. "Liam is in Sharon's office with his mother and the other agent. Should we call the police? That would be our normal next step, but since the FBI is here—"

Moore interrupted him. "Yes, call them. We need help to search and interview."

Looking relieved, Gordon pulled out his phone. Patrick didn't stay to hear what he said, focused on getting into the principal's office.

Sharon Burke, the principal, looked up as he entered but didn't say anything, rightly assuming he wanted to speak to his family first. Liam was hunched over in a chair, one foot tapping with restless energy. Teresa was standing nearby, every inch of her screaming federal agent in charge.

As their eyes met, Patrick felt something in him regain its balance. He remembered that she was not just his wife and freaked out co-parent; she was his badass partner. They had never failed to solve a case together. This wouldn't be the first.

He took a deep breath, switching roles and calming as he did so. "How long has it been?"

Liam said, "I started looking twenty minutes ago. That was maybe five minutes after the alarm went off."

Cho said, "I called SacPD and asked for a perimeter search. Van Pelt's already remoted into the system looking at security camera footage."

Patrick nodded, relieved that time wasn't being lost. "I need to talk to her classmates."

Burke nodded. "She was in physics. I'll take you."

Teresa turned to Cho. "I need you to run this."

"I got this," he confirmed. "Moore and I will handle everything. You guys go talk to the kids and teacher."

She nodded and came over to Patrick, taking his hand and squeezing it, then putting it back on his crutch so he could follow her out of the office. Neither of them objected when Liam followed them. It would be a while before they'd be willing to let him out of their sight.

Teresa said softly, "She'll be all right. She's smart and she knows how to deal with people. And she can defend herself."

"With a broken arm?" Patrick asked grimly.

She bit her lip. "You managed to survive several kidnappings without any self defense training. If you can talk your way out of trouble, so can she."

He had survived by playing for time, knowing Teresa was out there looking for him. But she was right: Victoria would do the same. She wouldn't lose her head; she'd remember what she'd been taught. He had to keep telling himself that.

The interviews with Victoria's classmates and teacher failed to turn up anything new. Patrick kept an eye on Liam, who knew these people well, for confirmation of his own readings, but was forced to conclude that nobody had colluded in his daughter's disappearance.

As they left the classroom, Patrick said, "What class is Brett in?"

"Mine. Chemistry," Liam replied. "I don't think he saw her. He was the one who asked me where she was." He hunched his shoulders. "I was talking to May. I should've been paying attention."

Teresa laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're not her keeper, Liam. This is not your fault."

"No, it isn't," Patrick agreed. He turned back toward the principal's office, Teresa and Liam following.

Cho and Moore were waiting for them in the hallway. "SacPD is searching the grounds," Moore reported.

Patrick shivered a little, an image of his daughter's body hidden under some bushes paralyzingly him momentarily.

Cho said, "Van Pelt triggered a backdoor into Victoria's phone and pinged it." He held it out to Teresa. "We found it next to the parking lot."

She bit her lip as she took it, her breathing becoming unsteady. Patrick swallowed hard as they both let go of their last shred of hope that this might be a misunderstanding.

Liam grabbed the phone and entered a passcode, unlocking the phone on his first try. Patrick felt a surge of gratitude for his son's powers of observation as Liam opened the messaging app. "Somebody texted her. Look."

Cho had his phone ready and made a call. "Van Pelt, we have the phone unlocked. She got a text from an unknown number, asking her to meet by the tennis courts." He read the number.

Teresa frowned. "She wouldn't have gone to meet a stranger alone. She knows better!"

Liam said, "Just because the number's not in her contacts list doesn't mean she didn't know who it was. See this?" He pointed to an icon at the end of the text. "That's a custom emoticon."

Patrick remained clueless. "Which is?"

"You can make one and send it to your friends. That way if someone sees you getting a message, they don't automatically know who it's from. It's like a code, kind of."

Now Patrick got it. "So this is something boyfriends and girlfriends do."

"Well, yeah, but, uh, not necessarily just couples." From Liam's red cheeks, Patrick deduced that Liam knew that firsthand.

Cho said, "Yeah, we just figured that out. Thanks." He disconnected the call. "Brett Mason's phone."

Teresa reached out to grab Patrick's arm, stopping him in his tracks before he'd even started moving. "Cho, you and Moore cover the exits. We'll have him called to the principal's office and do this in private." She went into the office, Patrick and Liam following.

Principal Burke looked worried when Teresa told her to call Brett to the office. "You can't think Brett Mason's involved," she protested. "He has a little mischievous streak, but...I hate to say it, he couldn't outwit a paper bag, much less Victoria."

"Not on his own," Teresa said grimly.

Burke stared at her in distress, then activated the paging system, which sent a message to Brett's phone as well as his teacher's. "He'll be here in a moment. Um, in the absence of his parents, I'll stay with him during the interview."

"Of course," Teresa said, barely concealing her impatience.

Burke said, "Would you rather Liam waited outside? With Jared?"

"No," all three of them chorused. Patrick didn't especially want Liam sitting in, but Cho and Moore were busy, and there was no way Teresa would agree to leave.

Patrick took a deep breath. He needed to keep control of himself. Nothing he did would surprise Teresa, and he didn't care what Burke thought under these circumstances. But he cared very much what Liam thought.

Brett arrived about a minute later, looking worried. "Did you find her?"

"No," Teresa said, her tone calm and controlled. "Please have a seat, Brett."

Brett obeyed, taking one of the chairs in front of the principal's desk. Patrick went to the other side and sat, pretending not to hear Burke's half-stifled gasp of surprise. From the corner of his eye, he saw Teresa draw Liam over to the small, uncomfortable looking sofa perpendicular to the desk, leaving the chair beside Brett for Burke.

The arrangement wasn't ideal, but it would work. He had no doubt Teresa would be where he needed her when it was time.

"What? What's going on?" Brett asked, seeming to suddenly realize he was the focus of this interview.

Patrick leaned forward, catching Brett's eye. He didn't have to summon any intensity; if anything, he had to tone it down. "What was your last contact with Victoria?"

"Uh, we chatted at lunch. She had to go meet with the prom committee about some argument they were all having, so it was just a short 'hi, how's your day' kind of thing. Why?"

"We know you asked her to meet you. Who was there instead of you?" Patrick demanded.

"What? No, I didn't." Brett looked confused rather than guilty, but Patrick wasn't a hundred percent sure yet.

"Don't lie to me, Brett." Patrick let his voice drop to a growl. "We found her phone. We saw your text."

"But I didn't text her." Brett looked perplexed, and he dug his phone out of his back pocket. "Look. The last time I texted her was before school."

He held the phone out to Patrick, but before he could take it, Liam hopped up and took it. Brett didn't protest as Liam's fingers flew over the screen, and Teresa placed a call on her own phone. "Grace, it's me. We have Brett's phone. There's no trace of the message."

Brett said, "Because I didn't send it. I swear." He looked stricken. "Somebody used me to get to her?"

Patrick reclaimed Brett's attention so Teresa could work. "Yes. Any idea who?"

He shook his head, but Patrick caught the lie in his expression. Tamping down his fury to a useful level, he leaned forward again. "Brett. I used to catch criminals for a living. Stupid ones, smart ones, it didn't matter: they were all human, and they all had tells. Just like you. You know who did this. You need to tell me now."

"I...I don't know," Brett stammered.

"But you have a good guess," Patrick persisted. "Who, Brett?"

"I really don't know." Now Brett looked terrified.

It was getting harder to stay calm. Patrick used his hands on the desk to balance as he got out of the chair to lean across the desk. "Brett," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "this is my daughter's safety we're talking about. You don't want to play games with me. Because I swear to you, if anything happens to her, whatever you're afraid of will be nothing compared to what I will do to you."

Principal Burke looked uneasy. "Mr. Jane, I don't think threats are appropriate."

"I do," Patrick growled, never looking away from Brett. He was peripherally aware of Teresa getting up, so he wasn't surprised when she spoke, her voice deceptively soft.

"Did you put the bug in the gravy boat, Brett?"

Brett was startled, his head whipping around to encounter Teresa's stern look. She continued, "Tell the truth."

"He doesn't need to," Patrick said. "It's written all over his face. Did you know it was a serious crime, Brett? My wife is a federal agent. That wasn't just eavesdropping, but obstructing an investigation. I'm going to make sure you're tried as an adult, so the judge will throw the book at you. You'll be going to prison instead of college."

As Brett's face paled, Teresa said, "Whoever involved you in this doesn't have your welfare at heart, Brett. Tell us who it is and we can work a deal."

Burke intervened. "I don't think this should go any further until his parents get here, and maybe a lawyer."

Patrick saw what he'd been looking for. "No need. His stepfather is otherwise occupied."

Teresa inhaled sharply. "Todd Mason?"

"It fits, doesn't it? A therapist specializing in drug addiction—perfectly placed to blackmail Reede Smith, who either misremembered the name or was never told the real one. Someone clued in enough to Visualize to insinuate himself into the life of Bret Stiles' heir." Patrick sat back down. "The only part I can't figure out is whether this is an attempted coup or an act of revenge."

Teresa swallowed. "I hope it's the coup. I'll call Cho." She turned back to Liam, who was using her phone to talk to Grace. He handed her his own.

Brett said, "You're wrong. My dad wouldn't do anything to hurt Victoria."

Patrick turned to Burke. "Call his parents and tell them there's an emergency. Let's see who shows."

"Okay." She looked worried but was remaining calm, for which he was grateful. "I need my computer."

Patrick got up and took his crutches. "Thanks for the use of your desk."

He went over to the couch and sat beside Liam, who had Brett's phone in one hand and Teresa's held to his ear as he listened to Grace. Teresa finished her hushed call to Cho, then reached across Liam to take Patrick's hand as Burke stepped into the hall to make her calls.

"Okay," Liam said into the phone. "Yeah. We'll let you know." He paused, then sounded a little choked up. "I will. Bye, Aunt Grace." He disconnected and handed Teresa her phone back, then got up and gave Brett's back. "She says somebody cloned the phone, but it looks like the clone is either turned off or wiped."

Patrick had already become convinced Brett hadn't lured Victoria into her kidnapper's trap, but he was equally convinced he knew who had. His defense of his stepfather had been weak.

Cho and Moore would be marshaling their forces to find Todd Mason, looking at associates and property records, as well as trying to find any connection to Visualize. The immediate chase was in good hands. Patrick needed to look at the ultimate goal of this plot and figure out Mason's next moves, so he could prevent them.

"Brett," he said, "what's your dad's connection to Visualize?"

"I...I don't know. I think maybe he used to do some counseling at their clinics, but he stopped when his own practice got big enough to support us."

It wasn't just fear of retribution driving his concealment, Patrick realized. It was also fear of what would happen to his family, including his three younger siblings, if their father and his income went away. Since his mother was self-employed, his fears were probably not unfounded.

"He's talked to you about it, hasn't he? Does he have good or bad feelings about them?"

Brett shrugged. "He said they were wackos and I shouldn't have anything to do with them. After Mom told me who my birth father was, he thought I should know the truth, not just her insider's view."

Not a coup, then. Patrick suppressed a shiver.

Burke came back into the room. "Brett, your mom is on the way. I couldn't reach your dad."

"He always turns his phone off if he's with a client," Brett said, casting a defiant glance at Patrick.

They were silent for a few minutes, until Liam burst out, "Where would he take her?"

"It wasn't him," Brett insisted.

"Then it won't hurt to answer my question," Liam retorted. "If he needed to hide, where would he go?"

Brett shrugged. "He works, he comes home, he goes to our sports things. The only time he does anything else is when he goes to conferences and stuff."

Patrick was certain that wasn't true, but he could tell Brett believed it. He couldn't blame Mason for not confiding in Brett, who was a much less likely co-conspirator than Liam, currently wearing a skeptical look identical to his mother's.

Patrick thought furiously. Mason must have a plan, not only for Victoria but for afterward. He must either intend not to get blamed or have provided for his family in case he did. Mason didn't seem the type to be willing to die or risk imprisonment for his revenge, if that's what this was.

That made him a more manageable opponent. Patrick had been willing to die for his revenge, thinking he had nothing to lose, at least in the beginning. He'd taken risks accordingly. But after he began to care about Teresa and her team, his risk assessment had changed.

Mason was a man with a lot to lose. Even the whisper of an accusation could put his practice at risk, not to mention the impact on his wife and children. Whatever he hoped to accomplish, it had to be worth the gamble for him, and he would have safeguards in place to avoid fallout. Like accomplices to do the dirty work. If Smith was any indication, he probably had plenty of former patients to blackmail. And none of them would be in his records, Patrick bet.

Dammit, he'd miscalculated. Mason might have had someone else snatch Victoria, in which case Burke's call would only have tipped him off that they were onto him. Still, he was unlikely to show up in case Patrick read something off him.

Patrick needed to remind Mason of the stakes. He decided to change his tactics. "Brett, it occurs to me that if this is connected to Visualize, you may also be a target. We should take you into protective custody."

"What? Why?" Brett looked stunned.

Patrick glanced at Teresa to make sure she was following along. "For your own safety. It's standard procedure in cases like this."

Neither of his family reacted to the exaggeration, though the principal looked dubious. He hoped Wylie and Vega would be back tomorrow; they were getting short handed.

An awkward silence settled on the room until the vice principal escorted Melinda Mason into the room. "Oh my goodness, Jared told me Victoria's missing. I'm so sorry. How can I help?" She moved toward the couch as if to hug Teresa, then thought better of it.

Patrick took charge. "We think this is a plot connected to Visualize. Brett may be in danger too. We're taking him into protective custody."

"What?" Melinda was shocked.

Teresa managed a soothing tone. "He'll go to a safe house with agents to guard him, people we trust. You can come with him, or your husband if you prefer."

"I...let me check with him. I can't leave my other children alone." Melinda pulled out her phone, distressed.

Brett said, "I'm okay, Mom. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Burke said, "I don't think they can force him to accept it."

"That's true," Teresa said. "We can only put him in protective custody if you agree. But if you don't, I will arrest him. He'll be protected, but much less comfortable."

"Arrest him? For what?" Melinda demanded, disconnecting her call when it went unanswered.

"For planting a bug in our home," Teresa replied.

"What?" Melinda turned to Brett. "Why on earth would you do that? And where would you get such a thing?"

Brett hunched a little, telegraphing shame, but didn't respond.

Burke said, "I think you should call a lawyer, Melinda."

"No, I..." She turned a pleading gaze on Teresa. "I'm sure Teresa and Patrick don't mean him any ill. They just want to find Victoria. If keeping Brett with them is best, then I don't want to interfere. Are...are you saying if he goes with you for protection, you won't arrest him?"

Teresa said, "We're willing to forget the eavesdropping and obstruction charges if he helps us. But he needs to tell us everything he knows."

"Like who gave him the bug," Melinda nodded. "Brett, you tell them everything, you hear me?"

"Mom—"

She folded her arms. "The only thing I better hear out of you is 'yes, Mom.'"

"Yes, Mom," he mumbled.

Melinda turned back to Teresa. "You promise he'll be safe? And you're sure none of my other kids are in danger?"

Patrick spoke before Teresa could. "We don't think so, but we can't be certain. Is there somewhere you could go for a few days? Visit your parents, maybe?"

Brett said, "That's a good idea, Mom. I'll be fine."

"I don't want to go so far while this is going on," she told him. "We'll go somewhere closer. Or maybe nowhere. I need to talk to Todd."

Patrick noted with interest that Brett didn't tell her that her husband was a suspect. "Tell him I'm fine. I just want to help find Victoria."

"Well, if you're sure." Melinda was clearly torn.

Teresa said, "I promise you, Melinda, Brett will be safe and well looked after."

Melinda didn't seem to consider that they hadn't been able to keep their own daughter safe, but maybe she assumed they'd be more vigilant now, Patrick mused.

Teresa continued, "He won't be able to keep his phone on him, but we'll make sure you can contact him."

Brett grimaced, and Patrick wondered if he was expecting instructions. Who could he get to take Brett's phone to Grace? Maybe Rigsby would be willing to come to dinner.

"Okay. Are you taking him now?" Melinda gave in, yielding to the dominant personality as she had all her life, Patrick surmised.

"Yes. He and Liam can get their homework assignments online," Teresa said. "You may want to collect your other children now, too. Brett, did you leave anything in your classroom?"

"No. But I'd like to stop by my locker."

"Okay." Teresa automatically shifted to her command voice. "Let's go."

mmm

With Cho and Moore leading the investigation, Teresa decided to bring Brett back to their house, at least until they had more trusted help. Patrick busied himself setting out a snack and beverages for the boys, coffee for Teresa, and tea for himself. Liam and Brett sat silently at the table pretending to do schoolwork on their tablets while Teresa walked the yard, keeping watch and using the privacy to keep in touch with her team. He could read the tension in her even at a distance, and she didn't even seem aware of Belle trotting after her.

It was too early to start dinner, and he didn't feel up to changing the sheets while hopping. He needed to keep busy, though, or he would panic.

If this were a case that didn't personally involve him, he'd be scouring the house for clues, building a picture in his head of the family and the...not victim, he thought firmly. The missing person.

But he didn't need to do that here. This was his family. There were no mysteries to unravel here.

His eye fell on Liam, and he corrected himself. He didn't know everything about his children's lives; that would be unhealthy. They needed a certain degree of privacy to develop into adults. But he was sure that if Liam knew something useful, he'd volunteer it.

Brett, on the other hand, was volunteering nothing. Patrick had promised Teresa he'd behave, by which he knew she meant no hypnotism, no threats, and no tricks. But he suspected she felt compelled to demand that while secretly prepared to overlook his actions. If she were really worried about what he might do, she wouldn't have left the house. She might be giving him the time he needed, and here he was wasting it.

"Liam, will you take your mother her coffee?" Patrick asked, sitting down at the table.

Liam looked up, a protest on his lips that he stifled when he saw his father's expression. "Yeah, okay."

Brett glanced up warily as Liam left. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Who taught you about hypnosis?" Patrick asked. "For me, it was my dad. He wasn't much good at it though. Too slick. He couldn't make people trust him like I could. And trust is the best way to get someone to lower their guard."

"Who says I know anything about hypnosis?"

"I do. Some people are naturally resistant, but not you. You've learned to spot the signs and keep yourself from succumbing. I bet it was your dad, wasn't it? He uses it in therapy sometimes."

"How would I know what he does in therapy? I'm not a patient," Brett shrugged. "Shouldn't you be helping look for Victoria?"

"The best people I know are already doing that. She knows hypnosis too. I taught her. She once hypnotized her brother into thinking he was a dog. It was hilarious." Patrick had to smile at the memory.

"Did he hypnotize her back?"

"No. She was on her guard. He had to resort to a more pedestrian means of revenge: pudding in her riding boots." Patrick couldn't help a small chuckle at the memory. "I don't know who was angrier: his sister or his mother. Teresa made him pay for replacements out of his allowance." Patrick had slipped his son a little spending money while his alliance was forfeit, and Liam had learned a valuable lesson in subtlety.

Brett smiled. "I bet Vic had steam coming out of her ears."

"She was practically volcanic," Patrick agreed. "Fortunately Liam had more sense than to do it right before a show. And he could outrun her. Do your brother and sisters play pranks on each other?"

"Sometimes."

"I bet they're worried about you."

Brett shrugged. "I hope not."

"I know you're worried about them," Patrick said in his most sympathetic tone. "Being the oldest child is tough. I don't know if Victoria has told you about how her mother grew up."

Brett shook his head.

"Teresa's mother was killed in a car accident when she was twelve. Her dad became a drunk, and she was left to raise her three younger brothers. She sacrificed her childhood making sure they had enough to eat and clothes to wear. That was tough, but it made her strong. She's the strongest person I know. And keeping her family safe is the most important thing to her. Just like it is to me." Patrick saw that although Brett was not anywhere near falling into a trance-like state, he was listening intently. "You want to keep your family together. I get that. But you can't stop what's happening here. With or without your help, your father will pay for his crimes. What you can do now is make sure the innocent members of your family are protected. They're going to be looking hard at your mom to see if she knew about this."

"Mom would never do anything like this," Brett protested.

"I believe you, but you know how lawyers are. It would be better if she never had to face one on the stand. And I know Victoria wouldn't want you to be a suspect, but if you keep lying to me, you will be. What happens to your brother and sisters then? The oldest is what, sixteen?"

"Lori's fifteen."

"So if you and your mom are arrested, they'll go into the foster system."

Brett's tension skyrocketed. "No. No way. Look, I didn't have anything to do with this, and neither did my mom. If I knew, would I have asked Liam where she was? It could've been hours before anybody missed her. I'd be like the world's worst accomplice."

"I know you're an honest man, Brett. You don't like lying, but you're afraid of your dad, aren't you? I was afraid of mine too, for a long time. Too long. Until I found a strong woman who helped me see I deserved better and helped me leave him behind. Did you hope Victoria would do that for you?"

Brett looked stunned. "Did—did she talk to you about my dad?"

"No. She didn't have to. It's written all over you." Patrick tried to stay calm as he saw victory in sight. "Angela—my first wife, who ran away with me—she died the most horrible death you can imagine because I turned out to be an idiot. I feel guilty about that every minute of every day. Don't be an idiot like I was, Brett."

"I don't want to be. But I don't know where my dad is, and I don't know why he'd do this. If he did." Brett looked Patrick in the eye for the first time since he'd sat down.

"You know more than you think. Now, did your dad encourage you to ask Victoria out?"

"Well, yeah. But it was my idea. He, uh, he just knew I wanted to."

"Are your dad's parents around?"

"No, they died a long time ago."

"Does he have any other family?"

"Uh, I don't think so. He doesn't talk about his past before he married mom," Brett said, as if just realizing it.

"No siblings?"

"I don't think so."

"Hobbies?"

"Golf, a little. When he has time. He spends a lot of time in his study. Mom says he's writing a book."

Patrick made a mental note to make sure he got to see the study as soon as possible. "Friends?"

"Yeah, I guess, but they don't come to the house. Mom's not one for big dinners or anything."

Apparently whatever Todd Mason was up to, he'd taken pains to keep it away from his family. Maybe Brett really didn't know anything useful. "Did anything change in the past few months? Has he seemed upset or stressed?"

Brett frowned, thinking. "No."

"Any behavioral changes at all? Maybe going further back?" Surely this plot, whatever it was, hadn't been eighteen years in the making.

"Uh." Brett thought for a minute. "Well, a few years ago he wanted to change my youngest sister's name. He and Mom argued about it."

"And did they?"

"No. But he insists that nobody calls her a nickname."

Patrick summoned up the names of Brett's siblings. "Her name is Allison, right?"

"Right."

"This was about three years ago?"

"I guess, yeah."

"He objected to her being called Allie?"

"How did you know?"

"A good guess." Patrick reached for his crutches, but Liam came back in before he could get up. "Liam, perfect timing. Where's your mom?"

"Front yard. Want me to get her?"

"No, I'll be fine."

Patrick couldn't get out the front door fast enough. Teresa was pacing in the front yard, phone to her ear and coffee in the other hand, but when she heard the door open, she said, "Hang on a sec."

"Todd Mason named his daughter after Allison Kuykendall," Patrick told her. "There must be a close connection."

Teresa relayed the news to her phone, then said, "Let me know what you find" before hanging up. "Does that tell us where he's taken Victoria?"

"No, not immediately. Though I'd have someone look into the Visualize facility where you were held."

"Already done. It was closed a few years later, then sold. It's part of an office park now." Teresa let out a frustrated sigh. "I've had Grace put tracers on our lines in case we get a ransom call, but you don't expect one, do you?"

"Not one demanding money, no. But if this is revenge, there might be gloating, or an effort to make us even more fearful."

Teresa grimaced. "As if that's possible."

Patrick thought of finding a note on the bedroom door and shivered. "It is, believe me."

She took the few steps over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, then kissed him gently. "We are going to find her," she said firmly. "And she will be okay."

"How many cases have we worked where the parents said the exact same thing, but their child was already dead?"

"None of those children were Victoria Jane," she reminded him.

He noticed the line between her eyebrows and the little crinkles around her eyes. She was trying to be calm for his sake, when she was anything but. He wasn't the only one needing comfort.

"True," he said. He wished he could drop these stupid crutches and hug her. "Would you feel better at the office?"

"No. I'm staying with you and Liam." There was no hesitation in either her voice or body language. "We have to stick together. No running off. Understand?"

"I could hardly run off even if I wanted to," Patrick said, indicating his crutches.

"If somebody called and told you to go somewhere to switch places with Victoria, you'd find a way," she said wryly.

"I don't think we're going to get that call," he said. "That would be too simple."

Teresa looked at him, her beautiful green eyes wide with anxiety. "What kind of call will we get?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think we threw him off his plan by spotting Smith. Then we took Brett. He'll need time to adjust, make a new plan."

"What's his goal?" she wondered. "Revenge? Will he try to hook her on drugs?"

"Maybe. But I doubt it's that simple." He sighed, closing his eyes and trying to make his brain work instead of getting stuck in a loop of horrors.

Teresa moved her hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head down so their foreheads touched. They stood like that for a moment, listening to each other breathe. Patrick felt Belle lean against his good leg, offering support.

"No matter what happens," she whispered, "I'm still here. And I need you."

Patrick swallowed hard. "I'm here," he whispered back, past the lump in his throat. "I'm here."


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter! I felt bad for keeping you in suspense, so I tried to hurry with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

Teresa moved her fingers gently through Patrick's curls, hoping to give as well as receive comfort as they stood in the front yard, foreheads touching. She needed to keep him calm and focused, if that was even possible in these circumstances. She was barely keeping it together herself.

Belle began to bark, and Teresa and Patrick straightened, looking down the driveway as they heard a vehicle approach. She laid a hand on her gun and took a step to position herself between her husband and the SUV driving much too fast toward them. Then she recognized the driver and relaxed. She'd never been so happy to see Wayne Rigsby.

Patrick couldn't quite smile, but as Rigsby got out of the SUV, he called, "Rigsby! Welcome. I hope you'll stay for dinner."

"I'll stay for breakfast," Rigsby chuckled, then sobered. "I came as soon as I could. How can I help?"

Teresa blinked hard, fighting a rush of emotion. "We could use another set of eyes here. I'll okay it with your SAC."

"No need. Moore took care of it. Grace wanted to come too, but somebody has to keep the kids from wrecking the place. She can do her thing from anywhere, so she's there and I'm here." He looked down at Belle, who was wagging her tail hopefully as she sat at his feet. "Hey, Mutt."

She barked, and Rigsby grinned as he bent to pet her. When he stood up again, he looked thoughtful. "If you want, Liam can spend the night at our place. Josh would love the company."

"Thanks, but we'd rather have him with us," Teresa replied. "We also have Brett Mason here."

"Yeah, Cho said you think it's the dad." Rigsby frowned. "What would he want with Victoria?"

Patrick said, "He's connected to Visualize. Specifically Allison Kuykendall, who was assigned to befriend Teresa at the facility where they held her."

Teresa stifled a protest at his characterization. Her memories of meals and yoga classes with Allie remained the only positive part of the time she'd been held captive—well, aside from finding out she was pregnant, though at the time that had been terrifying rather than joyful news.

"She died about three years ago. We think that's when he decided to get revenge." Patrick started making his way toward the house. "Hungry, Wayne? The boys might not have eaten everything."

Belle flopped down in the grass, intent on keeping watch. Teresa and Rigsby walked beside Patrick, keeping their pace slow so he didn't have to hurry on his crutches.

Teresa said, "But didn't the Masons move here before that? Was that just coincidence?"

"He may have been toying with the idea for years. Her life went off track long before her death." Patrick looked straight ahead, concentrating on moving forward and his own thoughts.

Teresa decided to leave him to it. "Rigsby, thanks for coming. We appreciate it."

"Where else would I be?" He shrugged. "If it was one of my kids missing, you'd come running."

"Yes, we would," she agreed. "But we still appreciate it."

Patrick reached the front porch and half-sat, half-fell into one of the rocking chairs, still deep in thought. Teresa hesitated, then went inside with Rigsby.

Liam was standing in the living room, having obviously been watching at the door. Teresa's heart squeezed painfully as she realized he must have expected news of his sister.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," Liam said.

"Hey, Liam." Rigsby laid a hand on his shoulder. "How're you doing?"

Liam shrugged. "Been better."

"Hang in there."

Teresa said, "Liam, can you change the sheets on the guest bed and take Wayne's bag up?"

"Okay." Liam took the duffel from Rigsby and headed for the stairs.

Teresa led Rigsby into the kitchen. "Rigsby, this is Brett Mason. Brett, this is Special Agent Wayne Rigsby, here to help us. He's an old friend."

Brett said, "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Rigsby said, picking up the last cracker with cheese and eating it.

Teresa almost smiled despite herself, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water and some of Patrick's homemade queso dip, then grabbing a bag of chips from the cupboard. "Long drive?"

"Yeah. Well, you know what the traffic's like in San Francisco." Rigsby tore open the bag of chips and began happily munching.

Patrick joined them a minute later, looking worried. "Where's Liam?"

"Upstairs." Teresa pulled out a chair for him. "I'll get him. Relax."

As she went upstairs, she scolded herself for not realizing Patrick needed his family in view. She should have known better.

Liam was just smoothing the quilt on the bed in the guest room, the dirty sheets on the floor in a heap. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem," he said. "Want me to wash those? Are Wylie and Vega coming back?"

"Yes, tomorrow, but I'm not sure if they'll go to a hotel." She watched as Liam gathered up the sheets, recognizing his urge to keep occupied. "Can we talk for a second?"

He started to roll his eyes out of habit, but then stopped himself, giving her his full attention. She took a steadying breath. "Your dad's having a hard time right now. We need to stay close to him."

He frowned. "Why?"

"This is hard for all of us." She swallowed hard. "But it's worse for your dad, because he lost his first daughter. Every time he closes his eyes, I can tell he's seeing Charlotte's body."

"He...he saw her? After?"

Teresa realized Patrick had never gone into detail about his discovery of his first family's deaths. "He found the bodies. It was...it was bad. I only saw the photos, and they were horrible. I...I can imagine what it was like, from being at other Red John crime scenes. But I can't imagine what it was like for him. I can't imagine seeing my child—" She broke off, unable to continue.

Liam cleared his throat. "So we need to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't run off and do something crazy."

"Yes." She was grateful to focus on the practical. "And that means neither of us can run off and do anything crazy, either. We need to stick together. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And stay close to him. He needs to remember that, no matter what happens, he still has a family." Teresa blinked back a tear. She was terrified of what might happen if they didn't get Victoria back safely. Patrick might shatter, and she would be in no shape to help him or Liam. She prayed Cho and Rigsby would know how to hold them together.

Liam looked as terrified as she felt, but he swallowed and whispered, "Okay."

"That's my brave boy." She laid a hand on his shoulder, then pulled him into a hug.

He dropped the sheets and hugged back hard. "I don't feel brave," he mumbled.

"I know." She pulled back to look at him. "But sometimes being brave isn't about what you feel. It's about keeping yourself going, putting one foot in front of the other even when you think you can't bear it. Just keep breathing. And praying."

He nodded. "What does dad do? Since he doesn't pray?"

"He worries. But he knows we've got the praying covered." She tried to smile. "Let's go before he comes looking for us."

Liam picked up the sheets and followed her downstairs.

Patrick looked up anxiously as she came into the kitchen. It struck her that he'd never looked his age until now, the lines on his face making him look almost gaunt. His tension eased as he saw Liam, but he was still wound tight, full of nervous energy.

"Your room's all set, Rigsby," she said. It occurred to her to wonder where Brett would sleep. She wouldn't assume Victoria's room would be empty.

Liam leaned down to hug his father from behind, causing Patrick to still momentarily. Then Liam straightened. "Brett can have my room," he volunteered.

Brett asked, "Where will you sleep?"

"I won't," Liam replied. "Probably none of us will."

Teresa said, "We should try. Whatever tomorrow brings, sleep deprivation won't make it easier. But you can stay in our room." Patrick would feel less anxious that way, and for that matter so would she. "In the meantime, we should keep busy. Liam, after you've washed those sheets, you can show me what Blueberry needs. Patrick, do you mind calling the equestrian center and making sure someone looks after Lady? Then you can think through how we feed all the people we'll have in the house tonight, and I can go to the store."

Patrick shook his head. "I'll order in. Blueberry just needs a scoop of grain; he gets a pretty good diet from grazing since it warmed up. You should also groom him and make sure he's healthy."

Brett said, "I can help, if you want. My sisters are horse crazy, so I've had to hang around stables since they were old enough to ride."

"Thanks." Teresa could only be relieved, since animal care had never been her chore. "Rigs, let me walk you through our security setup. Are you okay to stand guard tonight?"

"Sure. I may grab a nap first if that's okay."

"Of course. Come on; after I show you the alarm system, you can have a nap until dinner. And another after, if you want."

mmm

The afternoon and evening crawled by. Cho joined them around eight, disappointed that Rigsby was asleep. "Moore's still at the office, and he's got a hotel room nearby when he gets a chance to crash. I'm with you for the night. You should get some rest." He tossed a small phone to Brett. "Burner with no GPS. You can use it to talk to your mom."

"Thanks." Brett took it eagerly.

"You can go on up to Liam's room if you want," Teresa said, guessing he'd prefer some privacy. Cho undoubtedly had given Grace whatever she needed to listen in, anyway.

"I think I will. Thanks." Brett got up from the couch, where he'd been pretending to watch a movie with the rest of them, and bounded up the stairs.

Patrick asked, "Any leads on Todd Mason?"

Cho shook his head. "His wife got a text he'd been called out on an emergency. Van Pelt's going through his files but nothing unusual so far. We've been talking to his friends and the scheduling service he uses, too. Seems like he's the most boring guy you'd ever meet."

"I need to see the office," Patrick said.

"Yeah. I shot some video for you. I sent it to your email." Cho went into the kitchen, presumably in search of coffee.

"Sit," Teresa warned her husband, going into his study to grab his tablet. When she went back to the living room, Liam had perched on the arm of Patrick's chair, obviously intending to take a look as well. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to have two sets of Jane eyes looking for clues. She claimed the other armrest as she handed Patrick his tablet, unwilling to miss any opportunity to help.

She soon regretted it. After ten minutes of slow motion video of an empty, scrupulously neat office, with Patrick or Liam occasionally rewinding to rewatch part of Cho's agonizingly thorough video capture, she wanted to get up and shoot something. When Patrick made a cryptic "hm" for the fourteenth time, she got up and went to the kitchen to join Cho.

He had put a new pot of coffee on and was munching on a sandwich he'd made. Teresa was glad he'd made himself at home, but she had a flashback to all the times she'd found Patrick making a sandwich or a cup of tea in someone else's house. For a moment, she almost wished they were back in those simpler times. But of course they hadn't really been simpler.

She poured her cup of coffee, dumped a couple teaspoons of sugar in, and sat down at the table across from Cho.

He looked at her for a moment. "It'll be okay," he said gruffly.

She appreciated his attempt at comfort, but pointed out, "You can't know that."

"Yeah, I can. You've got one tough kid. Two, actually."

A picture popped into her mind of Victoria at age eleven explaining the black eye she'd come home from school with by saying defiantly, "He started it, but I finished it." Tears started to her eyes, and she blinked hard, looking down at her coffee cup. "Tougher than their parents, I'm afraid," she sighed.

"Not possible." He paused, then said, "You and Jane survived so much. Sometimes I didn't think you'd make it, but you did."

Teresa breathed for a moment to steady herself. "He's always said he couldn't survive losing his family again."

Cho shook his head. "He still has his family. He still has you. I watched you take a shell of a man who couldn't be bothered to shave and turn him into the best detective in California. Just stick together, and keep going."

"What if I can't?" she whispered, the enormity of giving voice to her greatest fear making her hands tremble around her mug.

"You can." His voice held no doubt. "But you don't have to do it all on your own. I'm here as long as you need me."

She lifted a hand to wipe at her eyes, then managed a tremulous smile. "Thanks, Kimball."

He gave her a grave smile. Then his gaze was drawn by something behind her. "Hey, Rigsby."

"Cho." Rigsby came around the table as Cho got up, and they shared a brief hug. Then Rigsby glanced at Teresa and asked, "Any news?"

"Not yet," Cho replied.

Rigsby said, "Jane was muttering when I passed him."

"Yeah. He's going to say a video's not good enough and demand to go see Mason's office in person."

"What are you going to say?" Rigsby asked.

"Wait until morning. We have four civilians to protect and only two of us. Moore can help in the morning."

Teresa frowned. "I count three agents and three civilians."

Cho shook his head. "Sorry, Boss. But you aren't thinking like an agent right now."

"I'm upset, yes. But I'm still an FBI agent, and I am still capable of protecting my family," she replied.

Cho's expression didn't change. "You may also be a target. Until we know for sure, one of us is with you at all times."

She couldn't argue with that, much as she wanted to. Before she could think what to say, her cell phone began to ring.

She froze for a second, then reached for it. The number wasn't in her contacts list, but it was local.

"Speaker," Cho reminded her as she answered it.

She hit the button. "Hello?"

"I'm looking for a Teresa Lisbon," a female voice said.

"You've got her." She swallowed hard, finding it hard to hear over her pounding heart.

"I'm calling from Sacramento General Hospital. We found a young woman outside the staff entrance this evening, and when we ran her fingerprints, they told us she was your daughter."

Teresa slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. She was vaguely aware of Liam coming into the kitchen, followed by the sound of Patrick's crutches moving fast.

Cho took the phone out of her shaking hand. "This is Special Agent Kimball Cho, FBI. What's her condition?"

"Stable. We think she was sedated."

"She was abducted earlier today. Don't let anyone near her until we get there," Cho said.

"Okay," came the response as Cho disconnected and stood. "Rigsby, you stay here with Brett. And call Moore."

"Got it," Rigsby stood back as they stampeded out of the kitchen, then called, "Let me know how she is!"

Teresa automatically got into the passenger seat of the SUV, leaving Liam and Patrick to climb into the back. Cho ran the lights and siren without being asked.

None of them spoke on the way, unwilling to share their fears. She was alive, Teresa kept repeating to herself. Everything else could be borne.

She knew she should wait for Patrick, but all rational thought was overwhelmed by her primal need to see that her child was still breathing. The vehicle hadn't quite stopped when she flung off her seatbelt and jumped out, racing for the emergency room doors.

She had to pause at the check-in desk to flash her badge and demand directions to her daughter, giving Liam time to catch up to her. He stayed on her heels as she made her way through the curtained beds, peeking into them when she lost count. At last she caught sight of the golden curls Victoria had gotten from her father, and she ran the last few steps to the bed.

Her hands moved of their own accord, one to Victoria's forehead and one to her wrist. She was warm and breathing, her pulse strong. Teresa closed her eyes and breathed an almost silent thank you heavenward.

"Vic, wake up," Liam urged, patting her cheek. There was no response.

"We think she's sedated," a young woman said as she entered. "I'm Doctor Radler. You're her mother?"

"Yes. And her brother."

Liam said, "If she needs blood or anything, we're the same type."

Radler smiled. "No need for that. She appears to be healthy and unharmed. She's just asleep."

Teresa cleared her throat and, with difficulty, stepped away from the bed so she could speak quietly to the doctor. "She was abducted. Did you look for signs of injury?"

"Yes, but the only thing we found was a needle mark in her arm." Radler looked sympathetic. "She was found fully clothed, and when we undressed her there didn't appear to be any sign of assault."

Teresa let out a long, shaky breath of relief.

The sound of crutches against the floor made her look up. Patrick hobbled in, pale and anxious, with Cho right behind him.

"She's okay," Teresa said immediately. "She's just sedated."

Patrick looked past her to the bed where his daughter lay, staring desperately as if he thought she would vanish if he blinked. He was breathing hard and was none too steady on his crutches.

Cho grabbed the lone chair and dragged it over to Patrick. "Sit down," he urged.

Teresa helped Patrick lower himself into the chair, assuring him, "She's okay. She's okay." But she wasn't sure he was hearing her.

Liam said, "She is, Dad. She's just asleep. Her pulse and respiration are normal."

Patrick showed no sign of hearing. Teresa began to be concerned he was hyperventilating. "Patrick." She shook his shoulders, then said sharply, "Jane!"

Long habit brought his gaze up to meet hers, and he blinked, coming back to her. His voice barely a croak, he managed, "Alive?"

"Yes," she told him. "She's just sedated."

Cho said, "We told you, the hospital said she wasn't hurt."

"Thought you were lying," Patrick admitted. "That you...couldn't bear to tell me."

"Idiot," Cho said, but his voice was sympathetic.

Teresa hugged her husband, torn between relief and annoyance. "I'd never lie to you about that," she whispered.

He clung to her for a moment, and when his grip relaxed, she stepped back to help him stand again, then take the few steps to the bedside. He slipped a hand around Victoria's wrist, looking at her intently, then let out a long sigh.

"She's okay," Teresa said again, to reassure them both.

Patrick shook his head. "We don't know that. Not until she wakes up."

Teresa's relief skittered away as fear roared back in. "You think something's wrong."

"Maybe." He cleared his throat. "Why give her back so fast? If this is revenge, why not at least torture us overnight?"

"So you think...what?" She had to ask, though she was terrified of his answer.

"I found you like this once," he said softly. "I was so glad you were alive, but you wouldn't wake up. And then when I did wake you, you weren't yourself."

"When Red John hypnotized me," she said. "But Victoria knows how to resist."

"So did you. He did it anyway. Threats, drugs...there are ways."

Teresa shivered. She would never know why she'd let Red John hypnotize her, but the answer had to come down to fear. He must have made a threat she couldn't bear. The thought of someone making her daughter that frightened made her want to punch something.

Liam said, "But she'll be okay. Right?"

Teresa swallowed the scream that wanted to emerge from her throat and focused on her son's eyes, round with fear. "Yes. We will find a way to deal with whatever happens."

Liam looked from her to Patrick, then to Cho. Finally he looked at the doctor. "When will she wake up?"

"I don't have her blood work back yet, so I don't know what she was given. But she appears to be in a fairly light stage of sedation, so we expect it won't be more than an hour or two." The doctor waited for a moment to see if there were more questions, then added, "I have some other patients to check on. I'll be nearby if you need me."

"Thank you, Doctor," Cho said as she left. Then he approached the bed to see for himself. "Will you guys be okay here? I'm going to go ask some questions about how she got here."

There might be footage, Teresa hoped. Or someone might have seen something. "Of course. Go."

Patrick didn't look away from his daughter as he said, "Find out if Todd Mason has admitting privileges here."

"Got it," Cho said. He started to leave, but almost ran into Moore, who demanded, "How is she?"

"She's okay," Teresa answered. "Just sedated."

"Thank God," Moore replied, relaxing a little. "How'd she get here?"

"Just going to find out," Cho said. "You coming?"

"Of course."

They both looked back at Victoria, and it struck Teresa that this was personal for them. She was glad; they'd do what they needed to, not stopping until they got answers. She could depend on that.

In her gratitude for good friends at her side, she remembered that they weren't the only ones. "Cho, will you update Rigsby? And Brett will want to know, I'm sure. But don't bring him here."

"Got it," Cho assured her as they left.

Teresa pulled the chair over to the bed and helped Patrick sit down, then perched on the edge of the bed herself. Liam did the same on the other side, holding his sister's hand.

There was nothing left to do but wait.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:** What can I say other than thank you for not giving up on this story? I promise I won't either, no matter how crazy real life gets. I so appreciate those of you still here!

* * *

 **Chapter 25**

Patrick sat by his daughter's hospital bed and watched her breathe, not daring to move in case he woke himself up to an unbearable reality. He could hardly believe that they might have come through this ordeal intact, or at least avoided the worst. Having steeled himself to confront his worst nightmare for the second time in his life, he had no idea what to do next. He felt like a bowstring pulled taut with an arrow, but no target was available. He couldn't relax, but he couldn't do what he'd prepared for, either.

He tried to focus on Teresa, who kept one hand on his shoulder as she divided her attention between their children. It was unfair to make her the sole caregiver and protector, he knew. He was her partner, not her dependent. And just because she was putting up a brave front didn't mean she wasn't as frightened as he was.

He summoned his shattered concentration enough to focus on his breathing. If he got his body under control, his mind would follow.

Once he'd calmed enough, he reached up and took Teresa's hand from his shoulder, folding it into his. She returned his grip with a firm squeeze, and as their eyes met he saw how relieved she was. He raised her fingers to his lips in a silent apology.

Patrick wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was enough that Liam had gotten bored watching his sister sleep and pulled out his phone. Patrick hoped he was doing something useful like texting Grace and not something stupid like posting on social media.

Teresa followed his gaze, then said softly, "Want some tea? I'd like to stretch my legs and get some coffee."

He nodded, then managed to croak, "Sure."

"I'll be back in a minute." She slid off the bed, dropped a kiss on his cheek, and hurried out. He bet she was after information as much as caffeine.

Liam said, "You okay, Dad?"

"Getting there." He tried a smile, but Liam remained skeptical, so he let it drop. "You?"

"Okay. Uncle Wayne says Brett wants to come first thing in the morning. Well, later this morning."

"What time is it?"

"Just past midnight." Liam grinned a little. "Belle knows a mark when she meets one. She convinced him to let her outside and now she won't come in."

Patrick reflected that he should have warned Rigsby about the dog's nocturnal wanderings, one of the reasons she wasn't normally allowed out after her bedtime excursion. "Well, at least she'll help with watching the grounds."

Liam shrugged. "Who'd come to the house tonight? None of us are there. You don't really think Brett's dad would come after him, do you?"

"I'm not sure," Patrick admitted. "Until I know what his goal is, I can't know what he'll do."

"What if we can't find him? What if he disappears?"

"It's not as easy to disappear as you might think," Patrick replied. "Besides, what kind of plan would it be to kidnap Victoria, return her, and vanish? What does that achieve?"

Liam thought it over. "Maybe something went wrong? An accomplice who lost his nerve?"

"Possible." Patrick felt a flash of pride at his son's analysis. "The plan may have been hastily implemented after we nabbed Smith; it may not have been foolproof. But that's a dangerous assumption. We need to work out why he would plan to do this in order to figure out what he might do next."

"To freak us out? So we're not thinking straight and do something stupid?"

"Only if you count moving immediately to Washington as something stupid. And why would he want that? His power base is here in California."

"Then maybe it's like you said. Maybe she's hypnotized. Or maybe she'll wake up and have a post hypnotic suggestion, and we'll think she's okay until she tries to strangle me in my sleep." Liam grinned to show he was joking; he knew, of course, that Victoria couldn't be hypnotized to do something against her character.

Patrick suppressed a shiver nonetheless. "That'd be pretty impressive one-handed."

"Well, she is your kid. She could probably make a weapon with a sock or something."

"What a way to go," Patrick said dryly.

Liam snorted. "Yeah."

Patrick felt his heart rate and respiration slowing back into normal territory as his higher brain functions kicked back in. He cast a close eye over his daughter, but it seemed the doctor had been right—there was nothing except the lone needle mark to show that she wasn't just asleep. He'd watched her sleep countless times throughout her life, from her first nap after being born to just the other night when he'd checked on her.

Too soon, she would be living where he couldn't check to make sure she was still breathing. He wondered how he would ever be able to cope with that.

His breath caught as her eyelashes fluttered, signaling she was beginning to wake. Suspended in hope and fear, he watched as her eyes slowly opened, then focused on him. "Dad?" she croaked out.

Patrick heaved in a breath that was almost a sob as some of his fears lifted. She had woken up, and she knew him. He wanted to burst into tears of relief.

Victoria frowned at him, then shifted her gaze to her brother. Liam grinned at her. "Hey, Vic. No, you're not dying. Dad's just been freaking out a little. Mom'll be back in a minute. Nothing to worry about."

She relaxed, yawning. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Liam asked.

Victoria frowned, a line appearing between her eyebrows just like her mother when she was annoyed. "I was in...physics. There was a fire drill?"

"Bomb threat," Liam corrected her.

Patrick swallowed hard, tying to get his throat to open so he could tell his son not to tamper with his sister's memories, or better yet, not question her in the first place until she had recovered.

"Victoria!" Teresa hurried into the room, nearly dumping her cardboard drink carrier in Patrick's lap in her haste to put it on the bed table so she could take Victoria's face in her hands. Fortunately he recovered enough to slide it firmly onto the table as Teresa asked, "How do you feel?"

"M'okay, Mom," Victoria yawned. "Just tired. What happened?"

"We'll talk about it after the doctor has a chance to see you." Teresa smiled down at her. "There's nothing to worry about."

Patrick felt soothed by her gentle voice even though it wasn't aimed at him. He drew in a deep breath, smelling the tea in one of the insulated cups on the table. Reaching for it, he was pleased that his hand only shook a little.

"'Cept Dad," Victoria said, sleepiness blunting her teasing tone.

Teresa managed a chuckle. "You leave your dad to me."

Victoria hummed in agreement as she drifted back to sleep.

Teresa stroked her daughter's hair for a moment, then tore her gaze away to check on Liam, handing him the small cup of coffee. "We can have someone take you home if you want," she offered.

"No. I'll stay." He sipped his coffee gratefully.

Patrick took another sip of his tea as Teresa turned to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Okay?" she asked.

"Getting there," he assured her. He didn't have the words to explain his breakdown. He hoped she would never understand what it was like to try to will a child back to life and fail, then see that moment he'd so desperately envisioned—eyes slowly opening and focusing—play out with another child. He was shocked to have his wish fulfilled this time after having it denied years ago. He still wasn't sure he truly believed it was happening.

"She woke up. She knew us," Teresa said, as if reading his mind.

"Yes." He sipped his tea, trying to make his jumbling thoughts fall into line.

Liam said, "She remembered being in class and the alarm going off."

Teresa frowned. "We don't want to question her until we can figure out whether her mind might have been tampered with."

Patrick knew she remembered the painful headaches she'd suffered when she thought of Red John after he'd hypnotized her. It had taken a long time for them to pass. "At least we were spared the fairy tale scenario this time," he said. He didn't know if he could have borne watching Brett try to kiss Victoria awake.

Teresa scowled at the memory. "Because this is a different kind of crazy, or Todd Mason doesn't know that story?"

"Not many people do. It wasn't in any report," Patrick mused.

Her expression softened as she remembered her team's loyalty, the way they had rallied around her when she needed them. The way they were doing now, even when it wasn't their job anymore. "What did Cho and Moore have to say?" he asked, remembering that she would have checked while getting coffee.

"No camera on that door; it's locked and only staff can use it, so they didn't think there was a need. They're looking at vehicles entering that lot but it's a needle in a haystack." She sounded frustrated.

"So that part of the plan was well thought out and researched." Patrick sipped his tea again.

Liam said, "So that was part of the plan all along, it just got hurried up by us figuring out Reede Smith was in on it?"

"That seems likely," Patrick said.

Teresa said, "It's all supposition until we find who did this."

Patrick hummed in agreement as he drank his tea.

mmm

Victoria woke again around 4 a.m., this time for good. Dr. Radler pronounced her in good health and discharged her, and Cho drove the family home. Patrick sat in the back seat with a child on each side of him, Victoria leaning her head on his shoulder. He was aware of Cho and Teresa talking softly, but his attention was focused on Victoria's breathing. He heard her take a breath an instant before she spoke. "Brett's at the house?"

"Yes," Patrick assured her. "He was worried about you." They hadn't yet told her they suspected Brett's father of being behind her abduction. They hadn't discussed her abduction at all; Patrick wanted to be as alert as possible before attempting it, and Teresa was at her most mother-bear fierce. He didn't want a fight. He didn't want anything to disturb his newly, unexpectedly reunited family. He just wanted them all back safe in their home so things could go back to normal and his stomach could settle. He needed a proper cup of tea.

At last the SUV rounded the bend in the driveway, and he looked up, eager for the sight of home. The porch light was on, illuminating Rigsby and Belle near the door and casting into silhouette a man Patrick assumed was Brett standing in the yard.

Then he noticed the unfamiliar vehicle as Cho pulled up behind it. He left the engine running and the lights on. "Stay here."

Patrick slid an arm around Liam's shoulders, holding both his children close.

Teresa murmured, "It's Todd Mason."

Patrick's breath caught.

Victoria sat up. "Oh. He must be here to take Brett home. I want to say hi."

"No," everyone else said in unison.

"Why not?" she demanded.

Cho said, "FBI business. You all stay here."

Teresa frowned, but after a glance at the back seat, she didn't protest. She did open the glove compartment, reaching for what Patrick surmised was a gun.

"What FBI business?" Victoria persisted as Cho got out of the car, slamming the door shut to get Mason's attention.

Teresa shushed her, listening intently to hear over the engine. Patrick was too, his mind racing. They had zero evidence to make an arrest; showing up here meant Mason knew it. Was this a taunt?

Liam pressed the button to lower his window. Neither parent objected.

Cho called out, "Everything okay, Rigsby?"

"We're all good here," Rigsby replied as Belle trotted toward Cho with a bark that was part greeting, part question. Patrick could tell she was confused by her stiff, non-wagging tail. She paused at Cho's feet, then sniffed the air and ran to the SUV, whining a little and then barking.

"Ssh, Belle. Quiet," Teresa said softly, and the dog complied with a protesting whine.

Rigsby said, "Mr. Mason is asking about his son."

Mason said, "My wife told me he was being held here. I'm taking him home."

Cho said, "We've been trying to get in touch. Where were you?"

"A patient of mine overdosed. I've been making sure he was going to pull through and talking with his family, then getting him admitted to rehab." Mason sounded weary. "I didn't think to check my messages until I got home. Melinda told me some wild story about Victoria going missing and you taking Brett, so I came straight here to sort things out."

Rigsby added, "I told him, Brett's asleep and in protective custody."

Cho said, "We need to talk."

Patrick grimaced. He wanted to question Mason himself, or at least observe, and Teresa would feel the same way. But neither of them wanted to leave their children at the moment, nor did they want Mason under the same roof with them. How to choose who should stay and who should go?

"Fine," Mason said. "Let's talk. Is there a reason we have to do it in the front yard?"

"No. Better at the office," Cho replied. "I'll ride with you."

"I'm not leaving without my son," Mason retorted.

"Okay." Cho paused, then said, "Back porch. We'll go around."

Mason said, "Fine."

Rigsby stood with his arms folded, blocking the front door, as Cho escorted Mason around the corner of the house.

Teresa said, "Kids, into the house, quick. Go directly upstairs and don't come down. Stay in Victoria's room."

Her tone left no room for argument, and no one tried. Liam slipped out his door and came around to Victoria's side, offering her a hand, which she ignored. Patrick slid out after her, picking his crutches up from the car floor. Teresa turned off the engine and was there to help him when he carefully slid out off the seat, trying not to step on Belle.

The dog trotted along as they followed the twins, now safely inside with Rigsby, who was halfway up the stairs when they went through the living room. He nodded over his shoulder as they headed for the kitchen and the back door.

They emerged onto the back porch, turning on the light as Cho and Mason came around the corner. Mason smiled when he saw them. "So you're home after all. Good. We can clear this up right now."

"That's our goal," Patrick agreed. He sat on the porch swing, and Teresa hopped up beside him. He could feel the tension in her, and so could Belle, leaning against her leg.

Mason claimed the rocking chair, and Cho leaned against one of the posts, arms folded.

"So what's going on?" Mason asked. "Is Victoria all right?"

Teresa said, "Yes."

Cho took lead on the interview. "She was lured away by someone who had access to Brett's phone. That and the fact that he planted a bug in this house are why he's not going home yet."

"A bug? Where on earth would he get a bug?"

His deception was perfectly obvious to Patrick. "From you, of course. Did you realize you were sending him to commit a felony? Because he didn't."

"I did no such thing."

"Please." Patrick grimaced. "You're not that good a liar. Just stop. Tell us the truth and we can all get some sleep."

Mason's expression changed from outraged innocence to amusement, except for his calculating eyes. Patrick thought he was seeing the real man for the first time.

Mason looked at Cho. "I'll save you some trouble. Several people can vouch for my whereabouts yesterday and this morning." He rattled off a list of names, which Cho recorded on his phone, doubtless to send to Moore.

When that was done, Cho said, "What about the bug?"

"No idea," Mason lied. "Maybe Brett wanted to know what Victoria says about him when he's not around. He has some friends who're into all that cloak and dagger stuff online."

Patrick decided to take a different tack. "It must have been maddening when Allie fell back into addiction. You weren't any use to her, despite your chosen profession."

"So you figured that out. Congratulations."

"Who was she to you? Sister? Cousin? Childhood friend?"

"Half sister. My mother had me before she found Visualize and got clean. They picked out some guy for her to marry, and they had Allie. I left the church as a teenager and tried for years to get her out, but she couldn't handle the real world. She went back in and look where it got her."

Teresa said, "She was the only person there who was kind to me. But she wouldn't help me escape. She was under Red John's spell, more than Visualize's."

"Teresa never mentioned Allie to the police," Patrick said. "There was no need for her to run. We had too many other things to worry about."

"She didn't know that. Red John's death made her go a little crazy. She really thought he was some kind of genius who made her a better person. Without him she was just another addict, she thought. And she couldn't stand the thought of talking about him to the police. So she ran. I didn't hear from her again. I had no idea where she was until the cops called me to tell me she was dead." He shrugged. "It's a sad story, but not a unique one. It happens to families all the time, all over the country. My patients are the lucky ones. They at least have a chance at beating their addiction."

Teresa said, "I'm sorry for your loss. I was sad to hear what happened to her."

"She chose her path long ago. I made my peace with it." He looked at Patrick. "So the crazy theory you've obviously pushing here won't wash. I don't have any reason to want vengeance on you or your family." He summoned a look of pity. "Have you considered that you may be projecting?"

Patrick kept his spurt of anger off his face. "I know all too well what a desire for vengeance can do to a man, how it can warp his thinking, his priorities. How it can blind him to what's truly important in his life. I know better than to repeat my mistakes. My only priority now is protecting my family."

As he spoke, he heard a slight scraping sound as someone opened a window in Liam's room, overlooking the porch. Was Brett awake, or had Liam gotten around Rigsby?

Teresa said, "Let's get back to the problem at hand. Someone has been targeting Victoria, but not, apparently, with the goal of killing her. It seems to me that a smart man like you, a psychiatrist, would know that keeping us in a constant state of suspense would be an effective means of torture, as well as being much less risky than murder."

Mason chuckled. "You flatter me. I'm no mastermind. If I were, would I spend my working hours helping desperate people, most of whom can't afford to pay the going rate for my services?"

Patrick said, "Yes. It supplies you with a steady stream of people you can blackmail into helping you. Though I suppose some of them might do it out of gratitude. At any rate, this is all academic. The FBI will investigate, but as for us, we're out of here. The kids will finish their schoolwork remotely, from Washington. We won't meet again. Brett may communicate with Victoria, but he is not welcome to visit."

Teresa tensed in surprise but didn't give the game away. She was still his best asset in a con, he thought with pride and gratitude.

Mason looked only mildly surprised. "He'll be sorry to hear that. As am I. But if that's true, then I assume you'd rather I take him home than have him underfoot."

Cho said, "There's still the problem of the bug. But we can go down to the office and talk about that."

"Fine. I'm sure it was just a stupid teenager thing. Let's wrap this up. I don't want him missing any more school over a misunderstanding." Mason got to his feet, then paused, looking at Patrick. "Ever think about what might have been, Patrick?"

"Not much, no." He frowned. "Anything specific you think I should ponder?" Was Mason going to try to rattle him by mentioning his first family?

"Red John had so much potential, didn't he? If he hadn't been a psychopath, what might he have made of Visualize? I wonder sometimes what would have happened if he'd been the man my sister admired so, instead of a killer."

Patrick might still be playing the psychic, still married to Angela if she could have put up with him. His heart squeezed as he pictured Charlotte growing up, leaving home, and becoming her own person. Maybe he'd even be a grandfather by now.

That possible life had died so long ago that it was merely an ache, not a stab to the heart, to think of it. If Mason was trying to throw him off, he'd failed.

"I also wonder," Mason said, "what would have happened if you hadn't killed him. If you'd stayed to be with your wife and children and made your own mark on the church."

Teresa said, "Don't fool yourself. Patrick would have been too big a threat. That arrangement was never going to work, not for longer than a week, anyway."

"Even with so much motivation?"

"A month, maybe," she conceded.

Patrick glanced at her, but he couldn't blame her for her lack of faith in his ability to behave well in those circumstances.

"So you think it was all destined to happen the way it did?" Mason asked her.

"Hell, no." Teresa practically snorted. "Nobody was more shocked to live through all that than I was, except maybe Patrick."

"I was definitely more shocked," he murmured to her.

She ignored him, focused on Mason. "I don't believe in fate. We make our own choices. And we're responsible for those choices. Not anybody else."

"Very true," he said after a moment. THen he looked at Cho. "Let's go. I have appointments in a few hours."

Cho glanced at Teresa. Without moving a muscle, they signaled agreement to each other, and Cho and Mason left the porch and headed around the corner of the house.

Patrick looked at Teresa, but they didn't say anything until they heard the window close. Then she said softly, "Are you serious about moving?"

"I wanted to see how he'd react." They could talk about moving later, when they were clear headed.

"What was all that what-if stuff?" She frowned.

"Not sure. I need to think about it." He got up, grimacing at the ache in his back as he reached for his crutches. "Let's get everybody into bed."

Teresa yawned as she got up, and Belle let out a sigh as she stood too. They all went inside together, Teresa locking the door behind them.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:** After finishing Blind Faith, it took me a little while to get back in the flow of this story, but I think I am back on track. Thanks for your patience—and to those of you who left reviews of Blind Faith, you rock!

* * *

 **Chapter 26**

Teresa was tired but too wired to be sleepy, so she settled on the padded bench at the foot of the bed with her laptop to get some paperwork done. Victoria had apparently had enough sleep, because she was absorbed in her tablet in the old rocking chair beside the bed, where Liam was sprawled in a deep sleep from which only great effort would wake him, they knew from experience. Belle lay at the foot of the bed, tail thumping contentedly as she watched her people, together again. All was right with her doggie world.

All was not right in Patrick's world, though. He paced the room on his crutches, frowning as his mind moved through the possibilities ahead, ignoring the sun rising outside. Teresa recognized the look. Something outrageous and unexpected was heading her way.

Well, she'd better get her say in before it arrived. "Patrick," she said softly, patting the bench beside her.

He blinked, focused on her, and then came to sit, close enough that their legs touched. She smiled a little, marveling at how much he'd changed since those long-ago days at CBI when he routinely ignored her instructions.

"You should take the kids to Washington," she said.

Victoria stopped tapping on her screen.

Patrick shook his head. "Not without you."

"My team is here, working this case."

"Which you should be nowhere near, and you know it. Teresa, if this is aimed at us, the last thing we should do is split up."

He was right, and she hated it. But her team could take of themselves. Her family were far more vulnerable. "Fine. We'll all go." She could monitor their progress remotely, and Cho was perfectly capable of taking lead.

Victoria said, "What about Blueberry and Belle?"

"We'll take Belle," Patrick said. "If the team is staying here, Rigsby can take care of Blueberry. Grace grew up around horses; she can tell him what to do."

Victoria sighed. "Okay. But I'm coming back for prom!"

Teresa exchanged a wry glance with Patrick, both of them obviously thinking there would be a hefty FBI presence at the prom this year. Patrick said, "I'll do my best to wrap this case up before then, Princess."

Teresa closed her laptop. "I'll start packing for us. You book our tickets."

She got up to get started, watching out of the corner of her eye as Victoria moved to the bench and handed her tablet to Patrick. From inside the walk-in closet, Teresa was just able to hear their quiet conversation.

Victoria's voice was tentative, devoid of her usual assertive confidence. It made Teresa's heart hurt. "Why can't I remember what happened?"

Patrick paused a moment, and when he spoke Teresa was reminded of all the times she'd heard him speak to young victims, calming without being even a little patronizing. "It could be a number of things. Drugs, maybe. Hypnosis." He cleared his throat. "Your own mind protecting you from traumatic memories. A fugue, it's called. You don't have any physical injuries, but trauma can be purely mental or emotional."

"You can tell if I'm hypnotized, right?"

"Yes."

"Well?" Impatience pushed out the nervousness in her voice, making her sound more like herself. "Am I?"

A short silence followed; Teresa pictured Patrick waving his hand in front of her face.

"No."

Truth, or comforting lie? Teresa couldn't tell. But Victoria accepted the answer. "Good. Did they find any drugs in my system?"

"Just the sedative. But you were gone long enough that you might have metabolized something fast acting."

"And...how would we know if it was a fugue?"

"That, I'm not sure about. You don't seem to have repressed any memories of your daily life, though I suppose it could be something that hasn't come up yet."

Someone knocked on the bedroom door, and Teresa stepped out of the closet as Patrick called, "Come in."

Rigsby stuck his head in the door. "Moore called. Mason's making a fuss about not seeing Brett, so unless you want to press charges about the bug, he wants to send him home."

Teresa looked at Patrick, who grimaced. "We might be doing him a favor sending him to jail instead of home."

Victoria said, "Dad! No! You can't."

Teresa sighed. She wasn't inclined to involve Brett any more than he already had been. "If we press charges, we'll have to come back here to testify."

"True. And I don't believe in punishing sons for the actions of their fathers. All right, Rigsby, go ahead and wake him. Teresa and I will be in to talk to him in a minute."

"You got it." Rigsby closed the door behind him.

"Dad, you have to let me say goodbye."

"Not until we know more about what happened to you."

"But Brett had nothing to do with it!"

Patrick glanced at Teresa as he got up. "That we know of. Your mom and I will talk to him for a minute, and then you can say goodbye. But we aren't leaving you alone with him."

Victoria looked unhappy, but she knew when it was pointless to argue. "Fine. I guess."

"Stay here until I come get you," Teresa told her. "It won't be long." Then she opened the door for Patrick, following him out and closing it behind them. "Will it?"

"No," he replied.

The door to Liam's room was open, and Rigsby and Brett were both standing awkwardly near the door. Rigsby looked at Teresa to see if he should leave, but she shook her head at him slightly. Better to have a witness in case Mason took it into his head to allege improper treatment of his son.

"Brett, Rigsby's going to take you home now. We're leaving for Washington today," Patrick said.

Brett looked surprised. "Oh. Uh. For how long?"

"Permanently." Patrick's tone left no room for doubt.

"But...but Victoria's coming back for prom, right?"

"If it's safe. I'm sure it will be, after my friends finish their investigation." Patrick stared at Brett until the teenager began to fidget, then said, "I know you know more than you're saying, Brett. I can admire you wanting to protect your family, but you're no match for the FBI. They will find out what you're hiding." He reached into his pocket. "Anybody who claims to have known Bret Stiles is talking to you for their own reasons. Be wary of them. If you want to know about him, call this number." He handed Brett a business card.

Brett took it and looked at it blankly. "Jason Cooper?"

"His right-hand man. Loyal, but not blindly so," Patrick said. "He still runs Visualize today, behind the scenes. He knew Bret Stiles as well as anyone, and he has no ambitions involving you. More importantly, he has no plans involving my children."

"You know him?"

Patrick nodded. "We go way back. Tell him I advised you to call, and he'll be honest with you."

Teresa had her doubts about that, but she was confident Jason Cooper wouldn't do anything to harm Visualize. He wouldn't tolerate any plots that might upset its current stability, and that meant he'd put a stop to anything aimed at her family.

Brett stared at the card some more, and then looked at Teresa. "I'd never let anybody hurt Victoria."

"Neither will I," she said. "And that's why we're leaving. You're welcome to call her, and you can say goodbye now. Rigsby will stay with you and then take you home."

"Okay. Thanks." Brett looked confused but willing to go along with whatever was happening. That was what likely made him not a willing, but a useful, part of the plot against them, she realized. They were right to leave.

"Wait downstairs. She'll be with you in a minute," Teresa said, catching Rigsby's eye. He nodded, then followed Brett out of the room.

Patrick grimaced. "I guess I should thank you for sparing us chaperone duties."

"Yes, you should," she replied. "Come on. Let's see if Victoria appreciates it."

She heard a door close quietly as she stepped into the hall and stifled a sigh. It seemed Liam wasn't the only eavesdropper they'd raised.

Victoria was sitting on the bed pretending to read her tablet when Teresa opened the door. "He's in the living room. You have five minutes, and then he needs to go."

Victoria frowned fiercely but didn't protest as she hurried out of the room.

Teresa and Patrick glanced at Liam, still sprawled on the bed and obviously not faking sleep, to judge by his breathing. Then Teresa said, "Any ideas how I can get Wylie and Vega back to DC without tipping our hand?"

Patrick sat down in a chair, groaning a little. "If the goal is to get us to Washington without our friends, they'll be watching. We know the FBI is probably compromised. Maybe Grace can figure out a way to get them a message that won't be detected." He paused to think. "I'd rather change planes and meet them on the layover, send the kids somewhere with them."

That was the heart of the problem, she admitted: springing the trap without putting Victoria and Liam in any further danger. "Could you do that? I'm not sure I could."

He sighed. "We could all go. Get off the grid somewhere Visualize and the FBI can't find us."

"And where would that be?" Teresa hoped it wouldn't be a jungle or a remote desert outpost.

Patrick shrugged. "Still working on that one. It's still possible that this plot begins and ends with Mason and no one else is involved."

"But you don't think so."

"No. He's enjoyed messing with us, but he has too much to lose to risk doing any real harm and getting caught. I think someone's using him as a misdirect, trying to panic us and make us run. Once we're on our own, thinking we're safe, we're vulnerable."

"To what?" Teresa suspected Patrick was acting more certain than he was to keep her calm. "Revenge? Why wait so long?"

"Maybe it's taken this long to amass their resources and network. Maybe they were in prison and recently released."

"We've checked that. Nobody's been released in the past year."

"Whoever they are, they've planned carefully. The only way we'll find them is by letting them think they've succeeded. If we dig in here, they'll just try harder to move us, and somebody might get hurt worse than a broken arm."

She nodded. "No argument there. We have to go. But by now they've had time to plan a trap in DC. We won't be safer there."

"Not for long. They'll wait a while for us to let our guard down, though. That gives us time to make plans of our own."

"I don't like it," Teresa couldn't help grumbling.

"Me either," Patrick agreed. "And we need to come clean with the kids so they won't be caught off guard."

"At least if Brett isn't involved, Victoria will be more cooperative."

"True. As long as they don't have to miss prom. Or graduation."

"I don't want them to miss anything." Teresa's fists clenched. "We were so close to giving them everything we didn't get."

"They will still have those things," Patrick said, his voice firm. "Whoever this is, we're not letting them take that away." His expression changed suddenly. "I have an idea."

"What?" she asked eagerly.

"You're not going to like it."

She folded her arms and glared at him. "Nothing new there. Spill."

"What are we most scared of?"

"Someone taking our children from us," she said immediately.

"Exactly. Whoever's behind this knows that. But what if someone else beats them to it? Then what?"

She stared at him, fighting a ridiculous urge to laugh. "You want to hire someone to kidnap our kids?"

"To keep them safe, yes."

"And just who would we trust with that? It can't be any of our friends, or they might figure out what's up."

"I'm still thinking about that."

Teresa could see the exact moment he came up with a name. He glanced over at Liam, then said, "If it can't be a friend, then maybe we need a frenemy."

She hoped he wasn't thinking of any of the criminals or shady characters they'd encountered over the years. "Couldn't we manage Pete and Sam?"

"Too obvious, like your brothers. And I'm not sure where Danny is these days. We don't have time for a search. It has to be someone we can contact right away."

Teresa felt dread creep down her spine. "You don't mean Jason Cooper."

Patrick gave her a pained smile. "I'm afraid I do."

"Someone connected with Visualize is after our kids, so your solution is to willingly send them there?" She tried to keep her voice down, but her outrage made it difficult. "Maybe to be locked up in a treatment facility, huh? No way in hell, Patrick Jane. This is nuts. I'm not agreeing to this, and if you try it without my consent, I will break every bone in your body."

He held up a hand. "Breathe, Teresa. I'm not doing anything without your buy-in. I intend to still be married to you when this is all over."

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down and think clearly, despite the panic she felt at the idea of Victoria and Liam anywhere near Visualize.

"Teresa." Patrick's voice was gentle now. "Look at me."

She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed, then did as he asked. He was holding out a hand to her, and she realized it was shaking a little. He was worried and frightened too.

She went to him and took his hand, his touch calming her. He said, "No one is going to take them away from you. Least of all me. I wasn't proposing to lock them up anywhere. A cautious man like Cooper will have a place to go that no one in Visualize knows about. It won't be a cell."

Teresa swallowed hard. "For the sake of argument, say I agree to that. How does it flush out who's behind this?"

"It doesn't. We'll need a clever plan for that. But it keeps the twins safe."

"Will Cooper even agree to this? To make it look real, we'll have to make every effort to storm and search Visualize facilities. He won't like that."

"We'll have to make it look like it's not connected to Visualize, obviously."

This was beginning to sound not just crazy, but unworkably complicated. "Now you're talking about involving more people outside our immediate circle. Every person who knows increases the risk."

"I'm aware of that." His forehead was creased as he thought. "We have some time to work out the details. Let's just get on a plane, to start with."

"Okay." Maybe they both needed some rest and distance from the past day to think clearly, she thought.

The sound of sniffling and footsteps on the stairs meant their conversation was over, anyway. Teresa moved to the window as the front door opened and closed, watching until Rigsby and Brett got into the SUV.

Victoria opened the bedroom door. "He's gone. I hope you're happy."

"Anything but," Patrick said, sounding tired.

"Do you need help packing, sweetie?" Teresa offered.

"No. I'll manage." Victoria left, and a minute later her bedroom door closed firmly.

"I'll make breakfast," Patrick said, getting up.

Teresa listened closely to his crutches on the stairs until he safely reached the living room. Then she turned to look at Liam, still deeply asleep, and gently brushed his long bangs from his forehead, love replacing fear for a moment. She would protect her family, even if it meant resurrecting old fears she found unbearable.

mmm

It was night by the time they landed in Washington. Getting flights at the last minute on airlines that would let them bring Belle in the passenger cabin hadn't been easy, and they'd ended up with two layovers, though at least that let them stretch their legs and give Belle potty breaks. Teresa hadn't thought she would sleep, but she had managed a few hours; even more surprising, so had Patrick. She supposed a plane in midair was the one place they were certain their children couldn't be taken from them.

Victoria was a little sulky, but Teresa thought that was preferable to her being worried about what might have happened during her kidnapping. Liam was...quiet, even for him.

By the time they wrestled their luggage out of the cab at the apartment building, they were all tired, hungry, and not talking much. Belle strained at her leash when she smelled the small park nearby, but Teresa guided her to a tree instead. "Not now, girl. But soon. I promise."

Belle whined, looking around at the unfamiliar city, then over to where Liam and Victoria were wrangling the suitcases, Patrick following on his crutches.

"You're right, girl. C'mon." Teresa hurried over to help, not wanting them out of her sight.

At long last they were in their condo, and she let Belle off the leash to go explore. Patrick went straight to the kitchen, doubtless to see what there was to work with for dinner. She heard him put down a dish of water for Belle, who lapped it greedily.

"Let's get unpacked," she told Liam and Victoria, who showed signs of settling in on the couch. "Come on. We'll rest after dinner. Victoria, I'll help you with your bag."

"Dinner in ten minutes," Patrick called.

Teresa took Victoria and her suitcase to her room, where Victoria took advantage of her broken arm to sit and text while Teresa did all the work. She had just finished when Liam appeared in the doorway, looking pale.

"Liam? What's wrong?"

He held out a small white card. "I found this in my bag."

Teresa took the card, but it immediately slipped through her fingers as they stiffened with shock. It landed on the floor, the red smiley face up.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** So, September was kind of a weird month for me and this chapter took a really long time. I can only apologize and be very grateful for those of you still reading. And it may help to keep in mind that these stories are AU, so the wedding was not the one from the show. Also, this is set a bit in the future so I've tried to toss some of that in, but in most respects it's not that different from 2017. Except that everyone takes their pets with them in the plane cabin. :)

* * *

 **Chapter 27**

Patrick was glad he'd stocked the condo freezer with bread, since nothing fresh had survived Teresa's sole occupation and extended absence. They were all in need of nutritious comfort food after a day of airport grazing, so he defrosted and reheated some beef stew while the bread toasted. He wished for a salad, but that was beyond his reach until he could get to the store or, better yet, a farmers market.

With Belle keeping him company, the kitchen felt more like home. Although he knew the threat against them was still out there, at least the condo was easier to secure than the farmhouse. With Belle on the watch for intruders, it would be practically impossible for anyone to break in.

Of course, they had to go out sometime.

Liam came into the kitchen and started opening cupboards, his face pale and tense.

"What are you looking for?" Patrick asked, on the alert.

"Plastic bags."

"Like a sandwich bag?"

"Yeah."

"To your right, second shelf. What happened? Did something make a mess in your suitcase?"

"Kind of." Liam took a bag from the box and headed back out of the kitchen, moving faster than usual.

Patrick's curiosity was piqued. Grabbing his crutches, he followed Liam to Victoria's room, surprised to see Teresa and Victoria standing in the doorway staring at the floor. Victoria handed Liam a pair of tweezers, and he quickly knelt, blocking Patrick's view, and picked up something, slipping it into the bag and handing it to his mother.

"Housewarming gift?" Patrick asked.

Teresa shook her head. "It was in Liam's duffel." She handed him the bag with what looked like a business card inside.

Turning it over, Patrick's heart stopped at the sight of the bloody smiley face that had haunted his nightmares for decades. It felt like his brain came to a screeching halt before kicking into a painful screaming overdrive.

Teresa said, "So much for letting us relax and let our guard down."

He shook his head. "It was in his bag, not the condo. Implying that it was placed as we left. This is to keep us from thinking about going back."

Liam frowned. "So us being here is part of whoever-it-is' plan?"

Victoria also looked perplexed. "I thought we were running away from the danger."

Patrick sighed. "Let's talk over dinner. Come on."

The twins didn't argue, but it was obvious they were thinking hard as they set the table and Teresa helped Patrick bring the food out. After they were settled, Teresa said grace and dug in, either because she was starving or had decided to let him do all the talking.

Belle whined, and Patrick looked over to where she was sitting by the kitchen, aiming her best pathetic look at him. "Did anybody pack dog food?" he asked with a sinking feeling.

A guilty silence settled over the table. Teresa said, "I'll go to the store after dinner."

"I'll make a list," Patrick agreed.

They ate a few bites before Liam said, "We should all go, so they'll think we think we're safe."

Victoria tossed her hair. "Yeah. If we're bait, we should get out there and be bait."

"You're not bait," Patrick and Teresa chorused.

Patrick continued, "We should act normally. That means not moving in a pack. Your mother will go to the store because she isn't on crutches, and the rest of us will stay here because after traveling all day, we're tired."

Victoria asked, "How long are we under house arrest?"

"You're not," Patrick replied. "We will go about our lives as if we have escaped the threat. But because we haven't, we'll be cautious. What we're doing here is a performance." That would appeal to them, he hoped. "Of course, you'll do your schoolwork during the day while your mother is at work. I'll either be with you or running errands."

Teresa's calm expression flickered, betraying a hint of fear, and he gave up his plan to see if their enemy would approach him if he were alone. Whoever it was would want to gloat, surely?

Maybe not. So far this plot appeared to have layers and more than one person involved, which argued for careful planning, likely by someone familiar with his methods. He needed to up his game. Or possibly change games altogether.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Belle creep toward the table, quickly swallowing the tidbit Liam had palmed for her. He raised an eyebrow but didn't object, considering the circumstances.

Liam managed two more bits of stew meat before his mother emerged from her abstraction and caught him. "Liam Patrick Jane, do not feed Belle from the table! You know better than that."

"But she's hungry, Mom." Liam's own puppy dog look was nothing to sneeze at.

Teresa looked from boy to dog, then at Patrick. "There's nothing bad for her in this, right?"

"She shouldn't have any onions." Patrick quickly began thinking what else might be suitable in the practically empty kitchen.

"I'll be fast at the store. She won't starve in an hour," Teresa sighed, turning back to her bowl and eating quickly.

"She could have cheese," Patrick said. "I think there's some in the fridge."

Liam jumped up and headed into the kitchen. Patrick called, "Not too much. And bring me the shopping list, please."

Belle let out a hopeful whine as Liam opened the refrigerator, and a minute later Patrick heard a knife on the cutting board and then Belle's collar jangling as she chewed. Liam returned with the small tablet that hung on the fridge, Belle trotting after him looking much happier.

Patrick took the tablet, swallowed his bite of food, and said, "Thanks." Teresa hadn't used the list, but he'd started one while he put the meal together, and now he added dog food. Frowning, he then scrolled through the non-food categories before manually typing in "burner phones." Teresa might not find them at Whole Foods, but there were several other shops nearby, including a drug store, where she should have better luck.

Teresa put her spoon down and stood. "I won't be gone long. Don't open the door to anyone while I'm gone." She looked around the table, then made a decision and headed for the bedroom. Patrick wasn't surprised when she returned with her personal handgun and held it out to him. "Just in case."

"You have your service weapon?" It was a silly question, but he couldn't help asking.

She patted her waist through the jacket she'd put on. "I'm good."

He was aware the twins were watching, so he joked, "You never know when you might have to arrest someone."

"True, which is why I have my badge, too." She held out her hand for the list, examining it. Only a swift glance at him betrayed her surprise at some of the items., and after a moment she pulled out her phone to transfer the list to it, then opened another app and began pointing the phone around the room. "We're bug free, by the way."

"Good. I'd hate to send you out for bug spray." There was something to be said for the tools of an active duty FBI agent, he reflected. "You'll keep an eye out, though?"

"Of course." She looked like she wanted to roll her eyes.

He wanted to say more, but he knew from long experience that there was only so much fuss over her safety she would tolerate. It made sense for her to go alone, he reminded himself firmly. It was just a few blocks down a well-lit, well-traveled street.

She bent to kiss him. "I'll be back in an hour or less. You three can stay out of trouble that long, can't you?"

"No promises, so hurry back," he replied.

Belle followed Teresa to the door and whined, but sat down when Teresa ordered, "Stay." She then looked back at the rest of her family and managed a smile. "Love you."

"Love you too," they chorused.

After the door closed behind her, Patrick stifled a sigh, then looked at Victoria and Liam. "Eat up," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Then we can get some unpacking done and get ready for bed. I'm beat."

They both gave him skeptical looks but went back to eating. Patrick forced down a few bites but paused when Belle began to whine again.

Liam said, "She needs to go out."

Patrick knew he was right by the way the dog was pacing by the door. He grabbed the tablet and added "puppy pads" to it, grimacing at the idea. Then he got to his feet.

"You're not going out?" Victoria said in disbelief.

"Just for a minute." Patrick picked up the jacket he'd hung on the back of his chair and put the gun in his pocket, then grabbed his crutches. "Don't worry. I can take care of myself, especially when I have my trusty guard dog. Don't open the door to anyone but your mother or me, understand? No matter what they say."

Liam frowned. "What if there's a fire alarm?"

"Stay together and go out through the loading dock. But call me first. I'll meet you," he promised.

"What if someone picks the lock?"

"Put the deadbolt on." Patrick was used to his son's need for preparation, but Belle was practically dancing by now. "The dog park is a block away. Text me with any more questions. But relax, all right? Whoever this is, they're smart. They won't risk coming in here with the security cameras in the lobby and hallways."

"We got it, Dad," Victoria assured him. "Go before Belle embarrasses herself, poor thing."

Patrick grabbed the leash from the basket near the door, carefully slid his shoes on, and bent to attach the leash. "Come on, girl."

Belle barked eagerly, and he opened the door, making sure it locked behind him. After a mercifully quick elevator ride, she practically dragged him the block to the park, which was currently hosting a couple of other dogs and their people, mostly young professionals. Patrick dropped onto a bench and unleashed her to go find the perfect spot near the bushes to relieve herself.

He reached down to massage his ankle, which was feeling better but still twinged when he put weight on it. He'd be able to ditch the crutches soon, he thought, though maybe he'd keep up the pretense in public.

"Mr. Jane." The deep voice from behind him made him jump, heart racing. "Relax," the man continued, coming around the bench to sit beside him. "We've never met, but I was at your wedding."

Patrick examined the large man's features carefully, the fading light and his dark skin making it a little difficult. "Oh?" The only guests at his beach wedding to Teresa had been their CBI colleagues.

"From a distance," the man clarified.

Ah. He must be one of Cho's old army buddies, recruited to keep watch in case Red John tried to crash the ceremony. "Sorry we couldn't have you at the reception."

"Our mutual friend set us up with a nice meal. And no smiley face cake." He shook his head. "That was some sick shit, man. My name's Cole Nelson, by the way. I live not too far from here."

"Nice to finally meet you," Patrick replied. The man seemed to be telling the truth, but of course he'd confirm with Cho when he got home. It would be just like Cho to make sure they had some back-channel help, though.

"Likewise. I hear you've got some trouble."

"Someone seems to be dragging us down Memory Lane."

"Not a good neighborhood. I work for a security firm these days. Give me a call if you need help." Nelson handed him a business card.

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Patrick pocketed the card as Belle trotted back to him, tail wagging.

"Cute dog." Nelson leaned over to rub Belle's ears, earning himself an instant friend. Then he stood up and whistled, and a big, brindled boxer trotted over and looked up at him expectantly.

"Beautiful animal there," Patrick said.

"Yes, she is. Name's Shay. She's smart as a whip, too," Nelson said with pride, attaching the dog's leash. "We're going your way. Want company?"

"Thanks." Patrick clipped Belle's leash on and got to his feet. Nelson handed him his crutches.

They were only a few steps out of the park when Nelson said, "Isn't that your lady over there?"

Patrick looked down the sidewalk and saw Teresa hurrying toward them, looking worried. "Yes."

"Sneak out, did you?"

"Belle convinced me she couldn't wait, but yeah, I'm supposed to be home."

Nelson chuckled. "Man are you in trouble."

"You don't know the half of it." Patrick swallowed the temptation to hide behind his new friend and pasted on a smile. "Teresa!" he called as she got within earshot. "That was quick. Find everything?"

She ignored his question, but he could see the dog food sticking out of one of the bulging shopping bags. Belle could too, because she left Patrick's side and went to sit at Teresa's feet, tail wagging furiously.

"Introduce me to your new friend," Teresa said, looking over Nelson and, to Patrick's experienced eye, calculating how she would take him out if necessary.

Nelson knew it too; he sounded amused. "Cole Nelson. I was at your wedding."

She frowned for a second before figuring it out. But her voice was skeptical as she said, "Good to see you."

"Our mutual friend thought it was hilarious that the tall guy got himself ordained. Always wished I could have heard the ceremony. He looked like he might pass out at the beginning."

Patrick chuckled, remembering. "Yeah. I ended up putting him in a light trance."

Teresa relaxed a little. "You live around here?"

"Not too far."

She was still anxious to get home to the kids, and so was Patrick. "We better get home," she said. "See you later."

Nelson smiled. "No, you won't. But I'll be around. Stay safe."

He and Shay headed back the way they'd come, and Teresa took Belle's leash and began walking briskly toward their building. Patrick hurried behind her, his crutches preventing him from catching up to her until she had to wait for the elevator. "I haven't been gone long," he panted.

"You weren't supposed to be gone at all," she retorted. "When I saw the late addition to your list, I guessed what was happening. You're a sucker for that dog."

Patrick knew this was not the time to point out all the occasions Teresa had given way to Belle's pleading gaze. He followed her into the elevator that arrived a moment later and decided silence was his best option.

They had the elevator to themselves, and he couldn't help remembering an elevator ride nearly twenty years ago on New Year's Eve. But his reverie was interrupted by his irate wife demanding, "Did you at least bring the gun?"

"Yes." He was a little insulted.

"For which you don't have a concealed carry permit," she reminded him. "You're lucky you didn't run into any trouble."

"You would have arrived just in the nick of time. You must have raced through the store."

"Almost." She hunched her shoulders, a sure sign something had made her uncomfortable.

"What happened?"

Teresa sighed. "I felt like someone was watching me. My skin was crawling."

As he followed her out of the elevator, Patrick wondered whether someone really had been watching, and whether she could remember a clue.

Their condo door was equipped with the latest in home security, a combination retina and thumbprint scanner. Patrick's keen eye also noted the tiny glint of a camera above the doorframe and realized Teresa had added to their security during her stay. He guessed Cho had helped, or even suggested it.

Teresa unlocked the door with practiced ease, picked up the bag she'd had to set down to do it, and nudged the door open with her foot. "It's me," she called before going in.

"Mom!" The twins chorused as Patrick followed her through the door. With some amusement, he noted that Victoria was holding his smaller cast iron skillet in her good hand and Liam was putting down the big fire extinguisher from the utility closet.

Belle woofed softly, reminding Teresa to take her off the leash before handing the bag of dog food to Liam to take to the kitchen. Patrick closed the door and locked it, then joined them.

Belle was happily crunching her food, and Liam was helping Teresa put the rest of her purchases away. "You forgot something," Patrick noted when a burner phone failed to appear.

Teresa shot him an annoyed look. "We can get that tomorrow."

"True." She was still tense.

Victoria looked from one parent to the other. "Did something happen?"

Patrick replied, "We met one of Cho's friends. He's around if we need him."

"I still need to verify that," Teresa said. "We only have his word."

"And the details he knows about our wedding. None of our friends would have talked about it, so it's likely he was there, as he said."

"Still." Teresa was in full evidence-demanding, alibi-chasing cop mode, no doubt a reaction to her recent fright.

Patrick didn't press his point; he was on shaky ground with her already. "Well, now that we're in for the night, how about a few hands of poker to pass the time until bed?"

His highly competitive wife and children were instantly diverted; he didn't often agree to play, claiming he found it boring to win all the time. As a result, Teresa was on a mission to prove he was cheating and the twins had enshrined beating him as one of their life's goals. The moment he produced the card deck from his pocket, everything else was forgotten, at least for the moment.

They passed an hour absorbed in their game and goodnatured trash talk; halfway through, Belle fell asleep beside Teresa and began snoring, adding to their amusement. When Teresa stifled a yawn for the second time, Patrick decided the current hand would be the last of the night.

"Well," he said, laying his winning hand on the table, "that's it for me. I think it's bedtime for Belle and me. You guys are welcome to keep playing."

Teresa shook her head and pushed the pile of gummy bears that constituted his winnings over to him. "I'm with you."

"Yeah, I'm beat," Liam agreed.

He and Victoria disappeared into their rooms, from which they would doubtless shortly emerge to battle over who got the bathroom first. Patrick double checked the front door locks while Teresa cleaned up from the card game, and then they closed themselves into the master suite as Belle settled into her bed in the hallway just outside.

Teresa sighed, sitting on the foot of the bed. Patrick busied himself getting ready for bed, letting her work through her emotions before asking anything of her. When he emerged from the bathroom, she'd changed into a comfortable old sleep shirt and decided on a course of action. "You need to hypnotize me."

Patrick returned her look with a calm he didn't feel. "You know why I don't do that."

"That was almost twenty years ago," she argued. "Whatever Red John might have put in my head back then, surely it's gone by now."

"We don't know that. And everything about this plot is rooted in our past. Someone might know a trigger and have designed this situation to get us to use it." This was an old nightmare given new life, and he was even less inclined to take the risk than when he'd woken her from her trance in that cabin in the woods.

Teresa's lips pursed in frustration. "Then not hypnotism, but that thing you do where you relax people so they can remember."

Patrick sighed a little. She had always been susceptible to him, even as far back as that time she'd been framed for murdering a pedophile. They hadn't known each other nearly as well then, and she'd turned to him out of desperation, but she'd slipped under on his first try. Now, after all this time together, he was afraid he might inadvertently put her into a trance, with potentially disastrous consequences.

Still, their relationship provided him with possibilities he didn't have with suspects. He reached for her hands, unclenching the fists she'd rested on her hips and sliding his fingers between hers. Then he slowly drew her close, letting her anticipate the gentle kiss he dropped on her lips.

"Relax," he murmured between kisses. "Focus on your body and let your mind drift."

She swayed into him, which threatened to disrupt his concentration. As susceptible as she was to him, he might be even more so to her. Their bodies had their own mutual understanding, independent of any goal his mind was focused on.

Teresa took control of their kiss, turning it hot and heavy, and for a moment he was tempted to abandon his plan and give her the physical release she was seeking. But he had an ironclad rule of never bringing work into bed, and this was too important to leave until morning.

"Slow down, love," he whispered when she allowed him to breathe. "We'll get to that."

She made an unhappy little growl. "Control freak."

"Breathe, Teresa. Count to five seconds while you inhale, hold your breath for two seconds, then exhale for five seconds. Ready?"

Teresa rolled her eyes at him and took a step back, but she could hardly complain when he was doing as she'd asked. She did the breathing exercise twice, ending in a gasp as he nuzzled her neck.

"Okay. Now think back to your walk to the store tonight. Recreate how it sounded and smelled, how your shoes hit the concrete."

"It's a brick sidewalk," she corrected.

"Good. You were hurrying, afraid I'd do something stupid."

"Which you did."

"But you don't know that yet. You walk into the store."

"My phone buzzes. You updated the list with puppy pads and I know you're going to take the dog out regardless of how dangerous it is. I'm worried, so I walk fast, looking for the dog food. I grab some stuff I happen to see on the way, but I don't care if I finish the list. Then when I'm looking at the dog food trying to pick the right brand, I feel like someone's watching me."

"Okay, let's look at that moment," Patrick urged. "Take a deep breath. Now, think about what was happening in your peripheral vision while you were looking at the dog food."

Teresa frowned. "Like?"

"What color is the floor?"

"Um. Beige?"

"What's to your left?"

"Dairy section. Prepared foods is to my right, toward the front of the store."

"Who's in the aisle with you?" A cop always knew who was nearby, he thought. Her training made this easier.

"Nobody. But somebody's pushing a cart in the dairy department. It's loud."

"Do you see them?"

"No. He's talking, but it's like he's talking on the phone, not to himself. He's moving away."

"Anybody else?"

She frowned. "No. No, I—I don't think so."

Her lack of certainty was interesting. "But you feel watched."

"Yeah. I grab the blue bag and go straight to the checkout. There are two people at the scanning stations so I go to the nearest free one and put my basket under the scanner."

She was getting tense again, so he kissed her forehead. "And do you look around?"

"Yeah. There's a man coming in the entrance and a woman standing near the exit like she's waiting for someone. I can't see her face but her hair is grey and she's tall and thin." Teresa paused. "She's got her phone out. I assumed she was looking at something, but maybe she had the front camera on and was watching me?"

"What was she wearing?"

"An old-fashioned trench coat, tan colored. I think that's what caught my eye. Nobody's worn anything like that for years."

"At least 15," he agreed. "Did you walk past her when you left?"

"No. She left before I did. She must have gone a different direction, because I didn't see her outside."

"Did you see her reflection, maybe in the scanning screen?"

She hesitated, forehead wrinkling in concentration. "I don't think so."

"Okay. We have enough to go on once we get the security camera video from the store. It's still early in California; you can text Grace now if you want." Patrick gave her a quick kiss, knowing she had tensed up again and probably wouldn't remember more at this point. Perhaps her mind would come up with something while she slept.

"Right." Teresa turned to grab her phone from the nightstand, all business again.

Patrick took a deep breath and tried to calm his body, which had definitely hoped for a different outcome. He climbed into bed and lay down, mapping the differences between this ceiling and the one at the farmhouse.

Finally, Teresa turned off the light and crawled into bed, moving over to lie beside him and kiss his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, laying a hand on his chest.

He covered it with one of his own. "Anytime." As if he would ever deny her anything she needed.

She hitched a leg up over his. "How tired are you?" she asked, voice husky.

"Never too tired for you, my dear," he chuckled, rolling to face her.

mmm

Sated, Patrick quickly fell into a deep sleep, so he didn't immediately wake when Teresa became restless. It wasn't until a fist grazed his shoulder that he woke, and he was sleepy and confused until her shriek propelled him into a sitting position. "Teresa!" he called, trying to get a grip on her flailing arms.

Fortunately she woke before she could hurt him. "Let go of me!" she shouted, anger and fear roughening her voice.

"Teresa, it's me," he said quickly. "You're safe. You're home."

"Jane," she gasped out, which told him she'd dreamed of their distant past. She struggled to free herself of the covers and sit up, and he helped as best he could. Then she threw her arms around him and held on tight.

There was a hesitant knock on the door, followed by Belle sniffing under it with a quiet, interrogative bark. "Mom? You okay?" Victoria called.

"We're fine. Come on in," Patrick called, turning on his bedside lamp.

The twins entered quickly, looking worried. Belle trotted to the bed and whined, wanting up. Liam obliged her, and she went to lean against Teresa's side, licking her arm.

Teresa sat up, running a hand through her hair to move it off her face. "I'm okay," she assured them all. "Just a bad dream."

Those were not exactly unknown in this family, so Victoria and Liam accepted her assurance easily. Victoria offered, "You want some water? Or hot chocolate?"

"No, I'm good. But thank you." Teresa smiled, regaining her composure. But Patrick could still feel her trembling. "Go on back to bed."

"Okay. G'night," Victoria said, turning to go with a yawn.

Liam hesitated. "Want me to take Belle?"

Teresa shook her head. "You can leave her. Sorry I woke you guys up."

"Don't worry about it." Liam gave her a quick smile before following his sister out the door, closing it behind him.

Teresa leaned against Patrick, cuddling Belle with her other arm, and Patrick turned the lamp off and eased them down onto the pillows. When they were settled, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Which one?"

She let out a long sigh. "Mitchell and the exam table. And then giving birth and them taking the twins away from me."

"Ah, the trifecta," he teased gently. "Sure you don't need some hot chocolate?"

"No. But don't get up and leave me in the middle of the night."

"Belle and I will be right here until morning," he promised.

Teresa sighed again, gripping his arm and tucking her nose into his neck. He knew she didn't want to talk about her nightmare, but he wondered if it held a clue. Could the woman she'd seen be Mitchell, even though the FBI said she was overseas? Or was the dream just representative of Teresa feeling out of control? She sometimes had that dream, or parts of it, when she felt overwhelmed or anxious.

There was no way to find out tonight. But in the morning, when he got his hands on a burner phone, he'd have Cho double check the whereabouts of Emily Mitchell.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** I had a major case of writer's block with this chapter, but the good news is I have downtime over the Thanksgiving holiday so I hope you won't have to wait long for the next one. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

 **Chapter 28**

Teresa was late to work the next day, because she had to wait for stores to open so she could get Patrick a burner phone. He had a kind of manic restlessness she recognized as a sign of impending disaster, and she was going to do everything she could to stave it off. But she also needed the resources of the FBI.

Her departure was further delayed by an argument about how much research she could safely route through official FBI channels. Patrick wanted to write the entire agency off and work only with friends they trusted, but she felt that anyone in the FBI involved in the plot against them would be suspicious of a lack of activity. They'd finally compromised: he'd ask Cho about Nelson and Mitchell, and she'd take the card from Liam's bag to the office. They'd conduct parallel investigations and hope to pry a lead loose somewhere.

It worried her that Patrick seemed to think they were up against another widespread conspiracy. The people they trusted most weren't working in the same office or even living in the same city anymore; they were isolated here. They were reduced to crazy long-shot ideas like relying on Jason Cooper to ensure the safety of their children.

Surely there were better options. Despite Patrick's paranoia, the entire FBI could not be in on this plot. Even if her new job was part of it, that didn't mean Abbott was involved. She had a hard time believing he could be; surely it was someone behind the scenes. Once Abbott knew what they were up against, she hoped he would be on guard and able to identify any enemies in their midst.

She'd barely gotten off the elevator when Abbott stepped out of his office. "Lisbon. A word?"

Heads swiveled, no doubt wondering from his tone if she was in trouble. She had bigger worries, though, than whether her boss was ticked off about some bureaucratic oversight. "Of course," she said crisply, changing direction to join him.

Abbott closed the door behind her and took a seat behind his desk. "Welcome back. I admit I'm surprised to see you here when your team's in California."

"I know I owe you a full report—" she began.

"No need. Cho filed one on your behalf, informing me you were taking emergency family leave." Abbott folded his hands, one side of his mouth tugging up almost imperceptibly. "Though I'm sure his report is far from the whole truth, considering its brevity."

Teresa reached into her bag and withdrew the sandwich bag with the Red John calling card in it, tossing it onto Abbott's desk. "That was put into my son's carry on bag."

Abbott frowned at it. "So this isn't just about Visualize."

"Apparently not. Although it could be a misdirect."

"But you don't believe that."

She shook her head. "Revenge for our impact on Visualize doesn't explain why someone would form a group and concoct a complicated revenge scheme. We didn't destroy the cult, after all; it's still there. But a Red John follower might well be trying to imitate his mind games and pull our strings." The idea of someone messing with their lives the way the serial killer had gave her the shivers.

"Makes sense. We'll run this for prints, of course, but if this is someone imitating Red John, I doubt we'll find anything."

"I don't expect to," Teresa sighed.

"What do you want to do? I can arrange a safe house if you want."

"We're making our own arrangements. Red John's disciples we didn't catch might still be in law enforcement."

Abbott looked like he'd just bitten into something sour. "And not just in California."

"No. By now they could be anywhere. Reede Smith spent years in Colorado."

"So I should be looking at anyone here who spent time in California while Red John was active."

Teresa sighed. "I hate the idea of a witch hunt, but I don't know where else to start. Also, a lot of the disciples could only be prosecuted for minor crimes, or cut deals to avoid doing time. It would be helpful to find out where they are."

Abbott nodded. "I'll put some junior agents on it, unless Wylie and Van Pelt have already taken care of it."

It would be interesting to see if a search from here turned up anything different than her trusted team. "Thank you. I'd appreciate the help."

"And rush the prints on this." Abbott picked up the card in the bag and scowled at it. "Whatever this is, I want it to go away as soon as possible. Red John shook the public trust in law enforcement all over the West Coast. I don't want that here."

"Nobody wants this over with quicker than I do," she agreed, taking the bag back.

"You're the Red John expert; we'll follow your lead. If you think of anything else we should be doing, let me know."

Although she thought Abbott was trustworthy, she still couldn't help thinking that was what a conspirator trying to keep tabs on the investigation would say. "Of course." She got to her feet, wanting to get started.

"Are you planning to be in the office or work from home?" Abbott asked.

"A little of both, as the situation develops," she replied. "Since I'm here, I'd like to stay and run a few calls until we get the prints back. I'll go home for lunch and if everything seems okay, I plan to be back for the afternoon."

"Sounds good. Keep me posted."

Teresa headed for the door, but found it occupied by a nervous looking young man. "Uh, delivery for Agent Abbott."

She decided to stay and see what this was about—the FBI had a robust interoffice mail system for materials too sensitive for electronic transmission. For someone to FedEx something to Abbott, they had to be an outsider or someone who didn't trust the internal system.

"From Sacramento," Abbott said, raising his eyebrows at Teresa.

She closed the door behind the young agent and went back to her chair. "From Cho?"

"No, one of the field agents." He frowned as he opened the envelope. "Ah. From Cho after all. He's requesting a secure conference line for updates." Abbott looked at her. "It seems he agrees there may be an issue within the Bureau."

Teresa felt relieved that her caution now seemed less like paranoia. "This isn't a fun stretch of Memory Lane for us."

"There's more." Abbott held out the piece of paper.

She took it eagerly and read the three sentences Cho had written for her attention: Security vid inconclusive. G checking on hunch. M wants to know what happened to AS, whereabouts unknown.

Teresa frowned. G was obviously Grace, and M was Moore, but who was AS? "I'd appreciate that secure line."

"I'll put the order in."

"Thank you." Teresa didn't hand back the note; she wanted Patrick to take a look. She nodded to Abbott and, satisfied they were finished, left.

mmm

Teresa decided to go home for lunch; the fact that she hadn't heard from Patrick after he talked to Cho meant he didn't trust her phone. If she wanted an honest report, she needed the secure line, currently snarled in an IT department backlog, or an in person check-in. Besides, a home-cooked lunch with her family sounded perfect.

She signed off her computer and headed for the elevator. When the doors opened, she was nearly knocked over by a young man in a hurry. "Agent Lisbon! Sorry. I was just coming to see you."

"About?" she asked, trying to curb her impatience.

"Fingerprints." He took a minute to catch his breath.

She frowned. Why this breathless report instead of an email? "You found a match?"

"Yeah. It took awhile because we had to widen the search parameters, and then we had to double check it. And then triple check it."

Teresa began to have a sinking feeling. "But you're sure of the results?"

"Yeah." He finally remembered to hand her the folder.

She drew in a steadying breath and looked, hardly surprised at the name but feeling her stomach churn regardless.

The tech whispered, "Red John," as if she could have forgotten that his real name had been Ray Haffner.

Teresa handed him back the folder. "Give this to Agent Abbott and tell him I've gone home for lunch," she instructed, getting on the elevator.

"Uh, okay," he said as the doors closed.

Grateful she had the elevator to herself, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as Patrick had taught her. Someone might be watching when she emerged, and she didn't want to give anything away.

At this time of day, traffic wasn't bad, which was good since she had trouble focusing on her driving. She found herself pulling into the underground parking garage without much memory of getting there.

When she opened the door to the condo, Patrick emerged from the hallway, limping a bit but free of his crutches. He looked relieved and pleased to see her. "The kids are in class. Given the time difference, I just took them sandwiches they can eat in their rooms."

"A sandwich would be great." She shrugged off her jacket and kissed him hello. "Want one?"

"I was just making myself one; it's no trouble to make another," he grinned. "As you see, my ankle is better. I can get around without my crutches, at least for short distances."

"Good. Now stop stalling and tell me what Cho said." Teresa headed for the kitchen.

"It took us some time to make contact, but we now have each other's burner phone numbers. I gave him yours, too."

"Great. He requested an encrypted conference line at work, but of course IT is backlogged."

"Nelson is who he says he is. Cho says he's a busy man, but he'll keep an eye on us."

"Okay." Teresa took stock of the ingredients on the counter and began making a sandwich. "What else?"

"He and the others are tracking down the Red John disciples we were directly involved in taking down. Judge Manchester died two years ago."

Teresa didn't respond, busy with her sandwich. She wouldn't pretend to grieve a man who betrayed his position as a judge by colluding with a serial killer and being an accomplice after the fact in her own kidnapping. He'd gotten a ridiculously light sentence, in her opinion. "Anybody else?"

Patrick paused, then moved closer to her. "Bertram's been out of prison for about six months, but he's spent most of that time in the hospital. He's got stomach cancer."

She couldn't be sorry about that, either. Bertram had actually been her kidnapper, luring her away from her team and knocking her out, then delivering her to Red John's custody in the Visualize mental health facility. As far as she was concerned, he should have died in prison. "Worth looking into though."

"Absolutely. But the thing we're most interested in is that no one can find Alexa Schultz."

Teresa scowled. "Her? What the hell would she want vengeance for? She cut a sweet deal, never did any time, and then wrote that disgusting book and became a minor celebrity."

"Did you get around to reading it, then?" Patrick's voice was deceptively casual, as if he'd forgotten they'd both agreed to leave their past in the past when the twins were born.

"Of course not. I had better things to do. Still have. I could tell it was disgusting from the stupid questions I kept getting asked." She finished her sandwich and turned to face him, realizing only too late that she'd crossed her arms defensively. Uncrossing them didn't relieve the look of concern on his face.

"Do you regret never telling our side of the story?"

Busy with her pregnancy and then the twins, they'd let others handle the media. She shrugged, not wanting to reopen a difficult decision. "Ancient history now."

"Nonsense. I could line up an agent in the blink of an eye if we decided to write our memoirs," Patrick claimed.

"Who has time to write a book?" she asked.

As usual, Patrick chose to ignore the fact that her question was clearly rhetorical. "I do. Or I will, once we've wrapped up this case and gotten Victoria settled at school."

The thought of him diving back into that world and revisiting the man he'd been frightened her, but if he really wanted to, she wouldn't insist. "Do you want to?"

It was his turn to shrug. "I don't know. But whoever's after us knows a lot, don't you think? Things that weren't public. Like the fact that Allie tried to befriend you in the facility, and that she met a bad end and had a brother who could be easily recruited to mess with us."

"They also had access to either evidence or some of Haffner's possessions. The card from Liam's bag had his prints."

Patrick didn't look surprised. "Or someone else's prints were put on the card and also substituted for Haffner's in the database."

"Possible," she admitted. "Either way, it's clear we're meant to be freaked out. And not just us. By now the fingerprint tech has told the whole building."

Patrick huffed an unamused laugh. "Who can blame him? It's got to be the most exciting thing that's happened in his lab in a long time."

"What's the plan behind this, though?" Teresa frowned. "Is it just focused on us, or is it someone wanting to revive Red John's cult within a cult?" Her memories of the disciple wannabes coming after her to prove they could do what Red John couldn't were still vivid.

"I'm not sure yet." Patrick stepped over to the counter to finish making his sandwich, and they moved to the table after grabbing glasses of water.

Teresa pulled Cho's note out of her pocket. "I think you've explained most of this now—AS is Alexa Schultz. But what's Grace's hunch?"

"Cho didn't say. She might not have told him if she wasn't sure." Patrick took a bite of his sandwich, frowning as he chewed.

Teresa did the same, realizing how hungry she was. She decided to focus on eating and leave Patrick to his thoughts.

Liam's door opened briefly, and Belle trotted out, coming over to Teresa for a greeting before nosing around her empty food dish. Teresa had no doubt she'd gotten some of Liam's lunch, though. Her son was an easy mark for their dog, and Belle knew it.

Teresa and Patrick were nearly finished eating when Liam emerged, carrying his coat. "Hey, Mom."

"Good afternoon. On a break?"

"I have Phys Ed this period," he shrugged. "Figured I'd take Belle for a walk."

"Not by yourself," Patrick replied.

"I'll go with you," Teresa said at the same time.

"Whatever," Liam said, picking up the leash. Belle immediately joined him, wagging her tail eagerly.

Teresa quickly ate the last bite of her sandwich and stood, slipping her jacket on. "We'll make it quick," she said, looking down at Patrick, who wasn't quite hiding his anxiety.

"We'll be waiting," he replied as she leaned down to kiss him. "Victoria should be due for a break soon."

"Good." Teresa wondered if her daughter was spending her between-class time chatting with Brett. Asking was probably not a good idea, though.

Following Liam and Belle out the door, she asked, "So how's your day going?"

"Okay, I guess." Liam summoned the elevator. "It's not the same as being there."

"No, it's not," she agreed.

"We can go back for graduation, right?"

"We'll do our best," she promised. "I'd like to wrap this up before prom."

"Hope the bad guys cooperate," he said wryly.

She swallowed her instinctive response that they almost never did as the elevator opened. They quickly crossed the lobby and emerged into the chilly air of early spring, which was almost pleasant in the sunshine. "It's nice having seasons," she remarked.

"I guess." Liam, born and raised in California, was not sentimental about weather.

Teresa hid a smile. "We'll have to buy really warm coats for next winter. And maybe a sweater for Belle."

They both chuckled a bit, picturing Patrick's reaction. He had a strong aversion to dogs being dressed as people, which had made a certain stage of Victoria's childhood difficult for him. Teresa thought Belle hadn't minded the pink tulle tutu half as much as he had.

The dog park was all but deserted on a weekday, and Liam let Belle off the leash and picked up a stick so they could play fetch. Teresa moved to the nearest shady spot so she could read her phone and began checking her messages.

As she'd hoped, there was one from Cho, saying they'd found a lead in California and he needed to keep the team there at least a few more days. Since he'd used regular FBI email, she interpreted that to mean he was sending help her way soon. That was a relief, since if Patrick was right, they had only a limited time before their enemy made the next move.

Belle let out a sharp bark, and Teresa looked up to see Liam teasing her by holding the stick just out of reach, laughing. He was unguarded in that moment, looking more like a boy than a teenager, and she had to smile. She'd always thought her children would grow up to be special, given their father's unique approach and natural talents, but she had to admit they had both exceeded her expectations. Right now, though, Liam reminded her of her brothers at play, lost in the moment and forgetting his worries. She was glad.

Movement in the trees across the park drew her eye, and she frowned as she focused on it. The flash of dull color through the budding branches reminded her of a deer, but it was definitely a person. Unease made her pocket her phone and double check that her gun was secure in its holster.

Her eyes narrowed as she realized the person was a woman in a tan coat with short grey hair. It couldn't be the same woman as the one in the store, could it?

Taking a deep breath, she got a grip on her alarm. The woman might live in the area, which would explain her presence in both places.

Or, Patrick's voice whispered in her mind, this could be surveillance. Or a trap.

The woman turned and headed away from the park, toward one of the office buildings nearby.

Teresa looked back at Liam and Belle, who were taking a break from playing to bask in the sunshine. Belle's head lifted from Liam's leg as a young woman with a beagle entered the park, but then lay down again to enjoy a good ear rub.

Keeping an eye on them, Teresa hurried to the far side of the park. She had to make sure her unease was just paranoia and not an actual threat. The woman was probably out for a lunchtime stroll and heading back to work. Teresa resolved that once she saw her enter the office building, she'd be satisfied.

But the woman walked past the entrance. Teresa followed at a casual pace, glancing back over her shoulder to check on Liam. He and Belle were playing again, and a few other people had come to the park. He was safe enough with witnesses around, she assured herself.

The woman in the tan coat paused at the alley between the office building and the neighboring apartment tower. Then she looked over her shoulder, right at Teresa.

Teresa stopped in her tracks, heart pounding. She knew that face. She'd seen it in her nightmare just last night.

"Emily Mitchell!" she shouted. "Stop right there!"

Mitchell ran into the alley, and Teresa sprinted after her. "Stop! FBI!"

The alley was a dead end, and Teresa slowed, drawing her weapon, as Mitchell turned to face her. "Stay where you are. Hands up."

Mitchell looked frightened as she raised her hands. "I've done nothing wrong. You have no grounds for harassing me."

"Except that you're in the country illegally. According to Homeland Security, you're in Sudan," Teresa replied.

"I just came in last night. I can't help it if your computers are slow," Mitchell said. "And before you interrogate me, I'm here to give testimony for a hearing at the State Department. You can check with them if you don't believe me."

"I will," Teresa said.

"Look," Mitchell said, "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I had no choice; nobody said no to Red John. You know that. And I've spent the last 16 years trying to atone for the things I did because of him. I've helped hundreds of people, lived in appalling conditions exiled from my home, unable even to visit my son's grave. Isn't that enough?"

Teresa dimly recalled that Mitchell had fallen prey to Red John's twisted philosophy after her child's death. "That's not for me to decide. All I'm concerned with is my family's safety. Someone's been stalking us—are you telling me you don't know anything about that?"

"I told you, 24 hours ago I was on the other side of the world."

Teresa wished she could read people as well as Patrick. She had no idea whether Mitchell was lying. "Are you in touch with any of the other disciples?"

"I've been working overseas for the last 16 years," Mitchell said incredulously. "Could you put your gun down, Agent Lisbon? I'm unarmed and no threat to you."

"Mom?"

Teresa instinctively looked over her shoulder to find Liam standing at the entrance to the alley, Belle sniffing around in front of him. "Liam, take Belle and go home. Now. Don't stop for anything."

"Not without you," Liam said firmly.

Teresa turned back to Mitchell, who was staring at Liam with a kind of wistfulness. "Your son? Mine never lived to be so tall. You should cherish him."

"I do," Teresa snapped. Slowly, she lowered her weapon. Mitchell was right: she had no grounds to arrest her, at least not yet. "Liam, I need you to go get your father."

Liam pulled his phone out of his pocket, but before he could make a call, a man in a black helmet and tinted visor stepped into the alley behind him and put a gun to his head. Teresa's gun snapped up instinctively, but then she froze, the sight of her son in imminent danger overriding any rational thought.

"Drop the gun, Agent," Mitchell said from behind her. "It's the only way your son lives."

Without conscious thought, her hand opened, and she heard her gun hit the pavement. Her eyes stayed locked on Liam's, wide with fear. _Stay calm_ , she willed him. _Think like a Jane_.

Belle sniffed the newcomer and growled. Teresa held her breath. Belle was a pet, not a guard dog, but maybe she would provide a distraction.

"Mom," Liam said in alarm.

"It's going to be okay, sweetie," she told him. _God, please protect him, whatever happens to me_ , she prayed.

She had only a moment's warning before Mitchell grabbed her from behind and slapped a cloth across her mouth and nose, forcing her to breathe a sickeningly sweet odor that made her head swim.

She tried to fight, but her body wouldn't cooperate. The last things she heard as the darkness closed in were Liam calling out to her and Belle's barking ending with a sharp yip and high whine.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note:** As promised, I did more writing than eating over the Thanksgiving break. Thanks for all your encouragement! Things are moving quickly now, so hopefully the next chapter will come easily.

* * *

 **Chapter 29**

Patrick finished cleaning up the kitchen, then brewed himself a cup of tea. It would be at least ten minutes before he could reasonably worry about Teresa and Liam, he calculated. They wouldn't be out long, knowing he would be anxious.

He sat down at the table to sip and review the case files Cho had sent to the random email account Grace had set up for him. Vega and Wylie were landing in DC soon, since Cho was concerned this was bigger than what they'd found in California, which wasn't much. Whoever was behind this had covered their tracks well.

They were now focusing on finding Alexa Schultz, the only one of Red John's inner circle unaccounted for. It seemed logical, but it didn't feel right to Patrick. Yes, the woman had been a sociopath in her own right and as fond of Haffner as anyone that self-focused could be, but Teresa was right: she'd gotten off easy and made a new life for herself. Why risk that now? Unless they could turn up some event in her life to indicate motive, Patrick would stay open to other suspects.

He was deep in trying to glean clues from a ten-year-old video interview of Alexa Schultz, whose book appeared to have been salacious at best, when Victoria called, "Hey Dad, answer your phone!"

He blinked, pausing the video and picking up his cell phone as Victoria came to stand beside him. The number wasn't in his contacts list, but he answered it anyway. "Hello?"

"Hi," a young woman's voice said. "Are you missing your dog?"

A chill ran down his spine. "My wife and son are walking her. Did she get loose?" That would be very unlike Belle, but better than any of the other theories his brain was concocting. Far better.

"I don't think so. She's been hurt. There's a woman unconscious here too. I called 911 for her, but your dog needs a vet."

"My son should be there too." Patrick got to his feet and stumbled toward the coat rack, groping for his jacket.

"I don't see him. We're on the north side of the dog park, in an alley."

"Listen to me," Patrick said as Victoria tried to help him with his coat one-handed. "That woman is FBI Agent Teresa Lisbon. You're standing in a crime scene. Tell the police that. I'm on my way."

"Uh, okay, but—"

Patrick disconnected the call and flung the door open, Victoria on his heels. Fortunately the elevator came right away, and soon they were outside, heading for the dog park. He hadn't stopped to get his crutches, but he ran as best he could, gritting his teeth against the pain. Victoria was faster, but she was careful not to get more than a few steps ahead of him. She hadn't put her coat on, he noticed; she needed his help with her broken arm. He'd make sure to do that as soon as he was sure Teresa was all right and the search for Liam was underway.

A siren approached, then cut off as the flashing red and white lights became visible across the dog park. Victoria dropped her coat so she could use her good hand to open the park gate, then sprinted across the grass. Patrick paused to retrieve the coat and followed as fast as he could.

"Mom! Liam!" Victoria shouted, her voice high and thin with fear. She didn't stop to open the other gate, using her good arm to swing herself over the fence in a maneuver he hadn't seen since she was 10.

Patrick had to stop to open the gate, leaning heavily on it for a second to catch his breath. By the time he reached the alley, Victoria was kneeling on the pavement over a whining Belle and demanding answers from the paramedics examining Teresa a few feet away.

The sight of his wife lying still on the ground hit him like a punch to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He leaned down with his hands on his knees and gasped for air as the paramedics transferred Teresa to a gurney and raised it.

"Dad?" Victoria said.

He straightened, trying not to wheeze, and limped over to Teresa. "I'm her husband," he told the paramedics. "Is she hurt?"

"No visible injuries," one replied. "But we can't rouse her."

Patrick moved a strand of hair from her cheek, then stroked her soft skin, pausing at her neck to feel her strong pulse. Then he bent to feel her breath against his cheek, needing to know firsthand that she was alive and well.

His nose wrinkled at a strong chemical smell, and he straightened. "She smells funny. She didn't smell like that when she left."

The paramedic closest to him bent to sniff for himself. "Chloroform, or something like it. That explains why she won't wake."

Patrick looked over his shoulder at his daughter and whimpering dog—and the space where his son should be. "How long will she be out?"

"Hard to tell. Depends on how much she inhaled."

She would have tried to minimize it, he knew. In fact, he wondered how she'd been ambushed at all—her clothes weren't rumpled as if she'd been in a fight. Someone had been clever.

"Dad," Victoria said, pulling him back to the present. "I think Belle's ribs are hurt. Like someone kicked her." Outage overtook distress in her voice at the end.

"She was trying to crawl over to your wife," the young woman standing nearby said.

"You're the one who called? Thank you," Patrick said, focusing on her.

"Yes, I'm Stacey. And this is Clive." She nodded to the beagle sitting beside her.

"Do you know a vet nearby? We just moved here."

Stacey nodded. "My vet's two blocks over. I can call and tell them it's an emergency."

"I'd really appreciate it," Patrick said, kneeling to rub Belle's ears, then drape Victoria's coat over her shoulders. "Did you see anyone?"

"I saw your son, I think, playing with this dog," Stacey replied. "Your wife was just leaving the park, heading this way. I think she was following somebody, because I heard her yell something. Your son heard and ran off toward her. I didn't see anything else though, because of the trees."

Another siren sounded, and Patrick turned to see a police car stop just behind the ambulance. "Tell the police that, please, and then can you take Belle to your vet? I'll give you my credit card. Get her anything she needs."

"Can I go with her, Dad?" Victoria asked anxiously.

He shook his head. "You stay with me until your mother wakes up."

"Can I do something? Call someone?" she suggested.

"See if you can reach Cho or Stan." He was needed in too many places: by Teresa's side, taking care of Belle, looking for Liam, and keeping Victoria safe. He needed help.

It was too bad all his help was on the other side of the country.

"What happened here?" A tall, dark skinned policeman approached them as Victoria pulled out her phone with shaking fingers.

Patrick spoke before anyone else could. "FBI Special Agent Teresa Lisbon was lured into this alley and attacked. Our son was with her and is missing. We need to get an Amber Alert out right now. There is at least one witness." He gestured to Stacey. "You need to interview her first so she can get treatment for our dog, who was hurt in the attack."

"And you are?"

"Patrick Jane. I was a consultant for the FBI before I retired. You can check my wife's badge if you need to verify her identity." Patrick pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his photos.

"Do you have a recent photo of your son?"

"Right here." He found a good likeness and set his phone to transmit, tapping it against the cop's device. "Officer—"

"Temple. How old is he?"

"Seventeen." Patrick swallowed hard to keep his voice steady. "About six feet tall. His name is Liam Jane. Last seen wearing a blue windbreaker over blue jeans and a dark green T-shirt."

Victoria added, "And black sneakers. Dad, is that his phone over there by the wall?"

Patrick's heart sank as he turned to look, though he knew Liam's kidnapper wouldn't be stupid enough to let him keep his phone. "I think so. Officer Temple, my dog is suffering. Can you interview the witness later?"

Stacey stepped forward and handed the officer a business card. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Is that okay? Do you have anything flat I can put her on? If she's got a broken rib I don't want to jostle her."

Victoria sucked in a watery breath. One of the paramedics said, "I've got something, if you'll bring it right back. Agent Lisbon is stable, so we don't have to transport her right away."

Patrick was thankful to be among dog lovers. He dug out his credit card and handed it to Stacey. "I'm indebted to you, Ms.—"

"Sollinger." She handed him a business card too. "Here. But I'll be back as soon as I can. I just need to call my boss and tell him I won't be back from lunch on time."

"I'll compensate you for your trouble."

"Oh, no need. I just hope you find your son."

Patrick felt a twinge of doubt as the paramedic gently lifted Belle onto a backboard, then picked her up. Stacey might hold a key to Liam's whereabouts, but Belle was whimpering and Victoria had tears streaming down her face. Patrick needed to calm down before he could help Stacey remember, and that wasn't going to happen until Belle got treatment. "Thank you."

"I'll be quick." She gave Victoria a sympathetic look and hurried off with Belle, her beagle trotting alongside her.

Victoria closed her eyes, no doubt praying. Patrick briefly wished he could find comfort in a similar ritual, but he'd closed that door long ago.

Officer Temple said, "Okay, the alert's out. Anybody you suspect may have taken him?"

"My wife's team is on an active case. We've had threats and a few incidents—that's why we're here instead of California. You'll need to liaise with Assistant Director Abbott for details. Ms. Sollinger told me my wife followed someone into the alley and my son followed her, but she didn't see the suspect."

Patrick's phone rang, and his heart rate accelerated as he reached for it. It was a local DC number not in his contact list. "Hello?"

"Mr. Jane?" a woman's voice said.

"This is Patrick Jane," he replied, his free hand fisting with the effort to sound normal.

"This is Leila Hejazi. Kimball's friend? I just saw the Amber Alert for Liam—what can I do to help?"

Relief washed over him—help was at hand. "Can you come be with Victoria? Teresa's unconscious."

"Of course. Are you still at the 'last seen' address?"

"Yes."

"I'm downtown, but I should be there in fifteen minutes, ten if I run the lights."

"Run the lights," he said, then disconnected. "Victoria, did you reach anybody?"

"No. I left messages." She wiped at her eyes. "Who was that?"

"Leila, Cho's girlfriend. She's on her way. You met her at the game, remember?"

She nodded.

Patrick stared at his phone for a moment, then dialed a number from memory. He wanted to slap himself for not remembering earlier that another source of help was close at hand. When Nelson picked up, Patrick said, "This is Patrick Jane. My son's been kidnapped from an alley north of the dog park."

"I'll pull footage—I know the cameras in that area. I'll call you when I have something." Nelson disconnected.

Pulling footage reminded him of Grace. Moore and Cho might be in a meeting or interrogation, but Grace might not be. He called her next, sliding an arm around Victoria as she came to stand beside him.

"Hey, Jane," she answered. "Everything okay?"

"No." He repeated the situation report for her.

"Oh my God. I'll jump on the cameras. And Emily Mitchell entered the country at Dulles last night—I just texted Lisbon. Have you called Abbott? I can do that for you. Let me check Wylie and Vega's itinerary—yeah, they're landing in half an hour at Reagan. I'll tell them to come straight to you. Is Victoria okay?"

"We're hanging in there," Patrick replied, grateful that Grace's alarm translated itself into action so readily. "Cho's girlfriend is coming to help."

"Good. I'll send the FBI your way and let you know if I find anything. And tell Lisbon I'm praying for Liam."

"Thanks, Grace." He disconnected before the hoarseness in his voice could deteriorate into weeping. Hearing her friendly, familiar voice had somehow opened the door on the fear and panic he'd been suppressing since the moment Stacey had called.

Victoria slid her good arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. He needed to be thinking. Liam was depending on him.

After a minute, he became aware that Victoria was shivering. "Why don't you go sit in the ambulance?" he suggested. "Once the crime scene techs get here, we'll need to get out of the way."

"Where are they?" she demanded.

"This isn't TV. Everything takes longer in real life."

She gave a put-upon sigh that would normally amuse or annoy him, but now gave him a much-needed sense of normalcy. "Can we check on Belle?"

"Stacey will be back soon." There was no way he was leaving Teresa until she woke or backup arrived. There was no guarantee that she was safe just because she'd been left behind. "Meanwhile, let's see if we can turn up any clues. Don't touch anything; just look." She'd already spotted Liam's phone, and she was a skilled observer who didn't have nearly as much awful stuff to feed her imagination as he did. Under the circumstances, she might be the better detective.

"Okay." She moved toward Teresa's gurney, looking closely at the pavement and the walls, working her way toward the dumpster at the end of the alley.

Patrick looked higher, searching for security cameras. This was a prosperous suburb, so there were fewer than in the District, but they should still be common. He walked out to the street, surveying the buildings nearby. They were mostly residential, with small businesses on the ground floor. The dry cleaners and coffee shop might have cameras or witnesses, he thought.

"Sir?" one of the paramedics called. "I think she's coming to."

He hurried over to the gurney and bent over Teresa, whose eyelids were fluttering. "Teresa? Wake up, love."

She groaned softly. He recognized it as an indicator that she was just beginning to wake. It could be a long process, even when drugs weren't involved.

A car screeched to a halt outside, and he heard heels clacking rapidly on the pavement. He glanced over his shoulder to see Leila hurrying toward them. "Is she all right?"

He nodded. "Thanks for coming."

"What do you need?"

"Are you armed?" She had a desk job, he recalled.

"Yes, and current," she replied. "I can stay with Victoria if you like."

"A witness took our dog to the vet. When she gets back, can you take Victoria there?" His daughter needed something to focus on, something useful to do, or she would flounder in fear. Plus, he wanted poor Belle to be comforted, and she must be frightened without any of her family there.

"Of course. The techs aren't here yet—she's looking for clues?"

"She needs to keep busy."

"I understand." Leila nodded, then went over to Victoria. After a quick greeting, Leila laid a hand on Victoria's shoulder to comfort her; Victoria ducked her head in a gesture reminiscent of her brother, but her composure held. Patrick was fiercely proud of her.

Teresa made another noise, this one conveying distress, and he looked back down at her, taking her hand. "You're safe. I'm here, Teresa."

She squeezed his hand and managed to open her eyes partway, her lips forming syllables but no sound emerging. He frowned, trying to lip read. "Who was here?" he asked.

"Liam," she whispered.

"Liam's missing." He hoped alarm would help her wake faster. "Who were you following?"

"Mi—Mitch—"

Patrick turned to Officer Temple. "Put out an APB on Emily Mitchell, now!"

"On it," he replied.

The crime scene technicians arrived a few seconds later, and Leila went to meet them, pointing to where Victoria was standing. One of the techs started snapping pictures of the area, and once Victoria was satisfied, she joined her father. "We found a footprint. Someone stepped in a puddle. It looks like a woman."

"Your mom's waking up. She was following Mitchell, the doctor from Visualize."

"And you think she took Liam?"

"She was involved, it seems." Patrick checked on Teresa, who was blinking as she tried to throw off the sedative.

"Here comes Stacey," Victoria said. "Is Mom okay?"

"She's just trying to wake up." Patrick tried to contain his impatience. The all points bulletin meant their only lead was being pursued; whatever else Teresa could tell them was surely secondary.

Stacey handed the paramedics their backboard but looked at Victoria. "Your dog's in good hands. They're X-raying her but Dr. Mullens thinks at least one rib is broken. She'll need surgery. I left the credit card with the office manager."

"Thanks," Victoria said, her voice wavering. "Dad?"

"Leila will go with you," he replied. "Ask them to preserve any trace evidence."

Stacey said, "I told them what happened." She handed Victoria a refrigerator magnet. "That's the address—they didn't have any cards."

"Thank you," Victoria said, taking the magnet in her good hand. "We really appreciate your help."

Stacey said, "Glad I could help the poor thing. I hope I'll see you at the dog park soon." She leaned down to pet her dog, who was watching all the activity warily.

Patrick said, "Text me when you get there, Princess."

"Okay." Victoria called as she hurried toward Leila. Stacey went over to speak to Officer Temple.

"Belle?" Teresa asked, her voice hoarse.

"She's at the vet. How are you?" Her gaze was focused, he saw with relief.

"I'm sorry," she said, wincing. "I should've been more careful. I should've known he'd follow me."

Patrick looked at the paramedic. "Do you have any water?"

"Sure." He reached into the ambulance and handed her a bottle.

Patrick steadied her shaky grip with his own hand. "Drink, slowly. Then you can tell Officer Temple what happened. We've put an APB out on Mitchell based on what you've said so far. Cho's girlfriend Leila is with Victoria, so she's safe."

"But Liam's not," she said bleakly. Between sips, she added, "Mitchell had an accomplice. He was all in black motorcycle gear with his helmet visor down. He was tall but not muscular, and he had a gun."

"We found Liam's phone, but there's no sign he was harmed," Patrick said, trying to reassure them both.

"I was so stupid. I was focused on him, and Mitchell got me from behind."

The guilt in her voice was all too familiar. It suddenly occurred to him that if the worst happened, she would never forgive herself. She would never be the same person, just as he hadn't been after losing his first family.

"Whoever's behind this has planned very carefully," he told her. "And knows us well. Don't beat yourself up."

His words were wasted, he knew immediately. But he had no better ones to give.

mmm

It was nearly an hour before they left the scene to meet Wylie at their place so he could put software on their phones in case of a ransom call, while Vega went to meet Leila and Victoria at the vet. Finding no further clues in the alley or Teresa and Stacey's memories, his desperation was growing. He needed to think, but he was surrounded by commotion and kept being distracted by Teresa's distress and his own anxiety.

He and Teresa had exchanged reassurances numerous times by now: Liam was level-headed, a good observer, smart, good at sleight of hand. All true. But he was still their little boy in the hands of someone out to hurt them. Someone who might not have qualms about torturing an innocent.

He could not look at the mutilated body of his child again. He'd barely survived it the first time, and this time Teresa might not be able to glue him back together. She might be even worse off, in fact.

Whatever happened, Victoria still needed them. He had to keep that firmly in mind. He would fight for his family with everything he had. That meant not just looking for Liam, but taking care of Teresa, Victoria, and Belle as well.

His phone buzzed while Wylie was fiddling with it, and he grabbed for it without thinking. Wylie let go but said, "Don't interrupt the app. Victoria says she's on her way back and to stop worrying so much."

Patrick read the text for himself before handing the phone back. A moment later Teresa stopped pacing and took out her phone. "Vega says they're on their way."

She didn't meet his eyes, but turned to look out the window even though it was the wrong direction to see their daughter and her two escorts approach.

Stifling a sigh, he went over to stand beside her, sliding an arm around her shoulders. This was as close to private as they were likely to get for the near future. "You remember all those times you yelled at me for wallowing in guilt and self-pity?" he murmured.

"Too many to remember them all," she pretended to grumble, her shoulders tensing.

"True," he agreed. "But I'm sure you remember the gist. I, of course, remember all of them word for word."

"You do not," she muttered.

"I do so," he lied, because her anger was better than self-flagellation. "I recall one in particular, a touching speech about how I was being selfish and couldn't see that there were people who cared about me and needed me. And I told you that some things couldn't be fixed. Do you remember that one?"

"Yeah. When we got Tanner. Before you shot him." She sounded wary.

The first person he'd killed—no wonder that entire day was vivid in his memory palace even after all these years. "Yes. I'm glad you remember, because that was pretty historic."

"Yeah?" She finally looked at him.

The pain in her eyes nearly derailed his train of thought. "Yes. Because I was wrong. Obviously. I could be fixed. You fixed me. It took years and more effort than most people would have expended, but you did it."

His words didn't have the affirming effect he'd hoped; instead she looked away, swallowing hard. After a moment, she whispered, "I also remember you told me there would be no third chances for you."

Their wedding night. He'd told her never to feel guilty about moving on if she survived him, but when she wanted the same promise, he'd demurred. Leave it to her to miss the main point of that conversation, he thought with some exasperation. "Remember what I asked you to promise?"

She frowned. "Not to feel guilty about moving on."

He shook his head, then pressed his cheek into her hair and whispered, "To forgive yourself."

Teresa sucked in a watery breath. "Even if it was my fault," she choked.

"Especially if it was your fault," he corrected.

She turned into his arms, muffling a sob against his shoulder. "How?"

He sighed, wishing he had a better answer for her. He had never really forgiven himself, just learned to live with the pain and guilt. "Forgiveness is your department, my dear. But you were right every time you told me that beating myself up was counterproductive. He's alive, you know."

"We don't know that."

"Yes, we do. If the plan was to kill him, we'd have found a body by now." He paused to let the wave of agony that swept through him at the thought subside. "This is aimed at us. Someone wants to hurt us. To break us." His arms tightened around her. "Don't let them succeed."

Her hands fisted in his shirt.

"This is when they have to get close enough for us to see them," he continued. "They want to watch us suffer. All we have to do is figure out how, and we've got them. Everybody makes a mistake sooner or later."

"Liam might not have later," she pointed out.

"He's every bit as stubborn and clever as I was. Better yet, he's resourceful and resilient like you. He'll hang on as long as we need him to." He desperately hoped he wasn't exaggerating.

She pulled back, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes. "Now that it's not just threats, we'll have more resources."

"Right." No FBI agent would take lightly an agent's child being kidnapped because of a past case. It would hit close to home.

The door opened, and Victoria came in with Leila and Vega. "Belle came through the surgery," she announced. "She had some internal injuries but they think they got the bleeding stopped. They have to keep her at least overnight for observation, but they let me see her for a minute. She was still loopy from anesthesia but she knew me. She wagged her tail when I spoke to her." She bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes.

Teresa hugged her. "She's strong. We'll go see her tomorrow."

"Any word? On Liam?"

Teresa shook her head. "Not yet. Everything that can be done is being done, though." She stroked Victoria's hair as if she were a little girl again. "If you can help, we'll tell you, okay?"

"Okay." She dug in her pocket and handed Patrick his credit card.

"You don't need to go back to your classes today, unless you'd rather have something to keep busy," he told her.

"I don't think I can concentrate," Victoria said.

"Okay. Let's go tell your principal, hm?" Teresa put an arm around her and drew her toward her room.

Patrick watched them go, then turned to Leila. "Thank you. I owe you one."

"Nonsense," she replied. "Just take one off Kimball's tab. Is there anything more I can do?"

"Not at the moment, but we'll let you know."

"I'll check in after work, then." She turned to go, then paused. "He's a smart kid. He won't do anything stupid."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks." Patrick tried to summon a smile, but from Leila's sympathetic wince, it must have looked pretty ghastly. She nodded to him and left.

Vega was hanging over Wylie's shoulder as he worked on a laptop at the dining room table. Patrick went over to join them. "Anything?"

"Sorry," Wylie said. "Mitchell doesn't seem to have used her credit card since she entered the country. She made a large cash withdrawal at her bank in London on her last layover. I've got video of her at Dulles, but nobody seems to have met her there. No reservations at any local hotel under her name."

Patrick nodded. "Any under her organization's name? She said she was here to testify at the State Department."

"That was a lie," Wylie replied. "There are no hearings scheduled this week. Van Pelt sent me a list of her past and present known associates, and we've divided it up to look for anything, but it's going to take time."

"I'll help," Vega volunteered. "Where'd you put my computer bag?"

"By the couch," he answered. "I wasn't sure if we'll need to stay the night. Cho thought one of us should."

"Good idea. We'll find you a bed," Patrick said. He didn't want to be short-handed again.

His phone rang, sending his heart racing until he realized it was his burner. "Tell me you have something."

"Sorry," Cho replied, sounding it. "Nothing on Liam. Moore assigned Van Pelt's entire team to looking for him though, and Abbott has the DC field office on it. We'll find him, Jane. How's Lisbon?"

"She's fine, physically at least."

"Good. Tell her we're going all out. I'm on the red eye back tonight. We found Alexa Schultz."

"And?"

"Dead. Red John style, in a hotel outside Sacramento. Moore's taking lead."

Patrick took no comfort in being right about Schultz. "We need to focus on Mitchell."

"Yeah, we are. But Jane," Cho paused for a second, "if she's the one behind this, why let Lisbon see her? The accomplice was masked."

"She was the bait. So...probably not the mastermind," Jane agreed. "We need to find the accomplice."

"Van Pelt and Nelson are both scouring surveillance footage from the area," Cho agreed. "I want Wylie and Vega to stay with you until I get there."

"Agreed."

"Good. Stay with them, Jane. Don't run off."

"I'm staying with my family," Jane assured him.

"If anyone contacts you or you think of something new, call one of us."

Patrick huffed a little at his friend's suspicious nature. "I will. Don't worry."

"I'll stop worrying when Liam comes home," Cho replied, then disconnected.

Teresa returned as Patrick pocketed his burner phone. "News?"

"Alexa Schultz was found murdered. Cho's coming back tonight." He reached out a hand, and she took it. "He said to tell you they're going all out."

She nodded. "Good." Then she looked at Wylie. "How can I help?"

"Maybe...grab a laptop and help look through the surveillance footage?" he suggested.

"Right." She grabbed her bag from beside the door and pulled out her work laptop, then settled on the couch.

Patrick sat beside her. "Victoria?"

"Talking to Brett."

He supposed under the circumstances, he couldn't object. There was nothing better for her to do. All he could do at the moment was watch video over his wife's shoulder and hope to find a clue.

If there was a clue to find.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note:** Merry Christmas to those of you celebrating! Among the many things I am grateful for this season is the continuation of this fandom and each one of you. Those of you who have read and left reviews have given me gifts all year. Thank you!

* * *

 **Chapter 30**

Teresa rubbed at her eyes, trying to will away the headache she'd had since she'd breathed whatever Mitchell had used to subdue her. Hours of watching surveillance video hadn't helped, despite the coffee Victoria kept her supplied with.

Her daughter was restless, going back and forth between her room and the living and dining rooms, where she tried to be helpful despite her parents' refusal to let her do FBI work. She made coffee, fetched chargers, answered phones, and gave periodic updates on Belle. Apparently the vet had set up a webcam for her "room" in their recovery area that any of them could access. Teresa didn't understand the appeal of watching their dog sleep, but Victoria hadn't let a quarter hour pass without checking in.

Patrick was in full obsessive mode, disappearing into his own head as he watched footage. He'd only drunk half the cup of tea Victoria had brewed him, leaving the rest to go cold.

If he was down the rabbit hole, she needed to step up and take over looking after everyone. It was nearly seven o'clock, she realized in shock. She wasn't sure Wylie and Vega had even managed lunch, so they were probably starving.

"How about I order pizza?" she suggested.

No one had spoken in so long that Wylie jumped, startled. "Uh, yeah, that sounds great."

"I can do it," Victoria volunteered.

Patrick looked up, blinking. "No need. I had dinner all planned. I could use some help, though, Princess."

"Sure."

Teresa breathed a sigh of relief as they went into the kitchen. Patrick wasn't lost to her after all. As long as he stayed focused on Victoria, maybe he would be all right.

She swallowed down a lump at the familiar sounds of her husband in the kitchen. Was anyone feeding Liam? Was he somewhere warm? Was he frightened? She closed her eyes and prayed for him, hoping he would know they were doing everything they could to find him.

Victoria's phone buzzed, then did it again several times in rapid succession. She took it out of her pocket, her expression softening as she looked at it.

"Brett?" Teresa asked.

"No. Well yes, but not just him. I retweeted the Amber Alert and tagged everybody at school, and they've been spreading the word. #BringLiamHome is trending, not just in California but the whole country. People from here are posting pics they took today in case there's a clue and tagging the police. And other people say they're praying for him." She paused to clear her throat. "Somebody had to see something, right? Maybe they'll see this and let us know."

Teresa smiled at her. "Good thinking, sweetheart."

Patrick added, "Out of the box thinking. That's good." He put down the pan he was holding. "It may take some out of the box thinking to catch the person behind this. They're either a criminal genius or have worked in law enforcement."

"Or both," Vega said. "They're not mutually exclusive."

Wylie nodded. "Red John proved that."

Patrick was apparently too preoccupied with his train of thought to point out that no one knew that better than he did, except Teresa. She said, "Abbott and I talked about looking into everyone in the FBI who was in California while Red John was active."

Vega nodded. "There's a list on the case site. He's having the Austin office check them out—less chance of personal knowledge influencing the investigation that way. I also saw a note from Cho that he asked somebody at the CBI to look into possible suspects there."

"Hightower?" Teresa guessed, feeling heartened. She had been part of the twins' early lives and would take this personally.

"Yes."

Patrick said, "It's too large a pool of suspects. It'll take forever to get through them all."

And Liam doesn't have forever, he didn't say. But she knew he was thinking it.

He continued, "It can't be just anyone. It's someone who knows us. Someone who was either involved in the Red John case or had access to the detailed case reports."

Vega said, "But you never got all the disciples, did you? So isn't it possible the information was leaked? Plus, the trial got a lot of coverage. Not to mention Schultz's book."

"Please don't mention it," Teresa grumbled.

Patrick shook his head. "This is more than information. This is personal."

Teresa thought about the sheer number of people he had pissed off over the years. But surely not so badly that they would go through all this trouble. "You're right. It's not someone who got away with it. It's someone who thinks we ruined their life."

"Exactly. Searching for disciples is a waste of time. We need to look harder at the ones we caught." He tapped his lips. "Whoever killed Schultz resented that she got off easy. Killing her in Red John's style was a message."

Wylie looked up. "Saying what?"

Patrick didn't immediately reply, lost in thought. Teresa sighed, "That you can't escape the past."

Victoria said, "So if this person was in law enforcement, they know what we're doing, right? That's how they're one step ahead. So we need to think differently, do something nobody in law enforcement would do."

"Like everything your father has ever done?" Teresa pointed out.

Victoria persisted. "If they know Dad, they're prepared for his methods. We need to think of something neither of you would do. What's the last thing you would do in this situation?"

"Give up," Teresa said immediately.

Patrick said, "We could do that—the three of us could vanish. But that dramatically decreases Liam's chances of survival. He's useful as a tool to make us suffer. Absent that..." He trailed off, for which Teresa was grateful.

"Okay, something else, then." Victoria frowned in concentration.

Patrick looked like he was still working on something as he turned to Teresa. "Why not you too?"

"It's harder to hold an FBI agent captive," she guessed.

"Or this is aimed at both of us. If they were trying to punish me, they'd have taken you too. Instead they took one of our children while he was with you, leaving you to blame yourself. They may think I would blame you as well, driving a rift between us."

He did blame her, she thought. He had to. Keeping the twins safe had been his priority since before they were born, and he'd said more than once that he didn't think he could have started another family with someone who wasn't able to guard them. And she'd failed. Despite her training—maybe even because of it, because she was used to pursuing—Liam was in danger. "Divide and conquer?"

Patrick shrugged. "A long shot, if they know us. It can't be the main reason."

Teresa wasn't so sure. Could he keep up this reasonable attitude if they found themselves standing at a grave? She shivered at the image, all too real since it was informed by the funerals of children she'd attended as an investigator over the years. "What if we pretended? You could take Victoria and run, leaving me to look for Liam and be tortured."

He shook his head. "I don't want to split up. But I wouldn't object to getting Victoria under wraps."

"No," Victoria said firmly. "I'm staying here. I can help." She snapped her fingers. "That's what you'd never do—let me go look for him. That would tempt whoever it is to grab me too, right? But without all the careful planning. That's how you could catch them."

"No," Patrick and Teresa chorused.

"You are not bait," Patrick added firmly.

"But if it will work—" she protested.

"Victoria," Teresa said in her sternest tone, "no. The risks are too great and the chances of success too small. It's a bad bet. We have lots of leads to exhaust before we even start thinking like that."

"But Liam might not have time!" she cried, her voice scaling upward. "What if they've put him somewhere without heat? He could freeze tonight. Or maybe they're not giving him water. Or maybe he's hurt and not getting treatment. Or—or—"

Patrick drew her into his arms. "Ssh," he murmured. "Don't freak yourself out. Don't let your fear take over. We have to keep thinking, and that means keeping calm, all right?"

Victoria gave a watery sniffle that hurt Teresa's heart. Patrick wasn't the only one who might not be able to forgive her, she realized with a chill. She could lose her entire family before this ended.

Was this plot really aimed at her? Who would hate her that much?

She needed to think about this. She'd testified at so many trials before the twins were born, but at least that was a more manageable list. Unless you added collateral damage, like Todd Mason. Turning to Wylie, she said, "Let's start with disciples whose trials we testified at."

He nodded. "Okay. That should be easy to come up with."

"No need," she replied. "I remember them all. I'll send you the list."

mmm

Teresa, Wylie, and Vega worked through dinner, leaving Patrick and Victoria to clean up. When that was finished, Victoria went back to monitoring social media and Belle, while Patrick stretched out on the couch, thinking.

Teresa realized she had a crick in her neck as well as a fierce headache, so she got up from the table and went down the hall to the bathroom. After taking care of her bodily needs, she paused in the doorway to Liam's room. He hadn't lived in it long, so it was still orderly and a little impersonal, unlike his room at the farmhouse. Still, there was his guitar propped in the corner and his sketchbook and pencils scattered on the floor near the messy bed.

She straightened the covers, re-tucking the top sheet and moving the pillows to sit beside each other at the head. She knew she should change the sheets for their guests, but something in her rebelled at the thought. Victoria could sleep in the master bedroom tonight and give her room to Wylie and Vega. It wasn't like she and Patrick would sleep a wink.

Bending to pick up the sketch pad, she couldn't resist flipping through it, moving backward from the page he'd been working on. Liam was a perfectionist who rarely wanted to show his work, so she usually got only glimpses of his artistic endeavors. It still amazed her that she and Patrick had managed to produce a child with any artistic ability at all—she and her brothers had none, and Patrick had more appreciation than talent, except for his way with words.

The most recent ones were cityscapes, views from his window. Those gave way to images of Belle, mostly sleeping, and a few of Blueberry and landscapes from the farm. Had he drawn those to remember them by, she wondered. There were also some of Victoria making various faces and Patrick grinning. Teresa was saddened to find herself missing, an indication of how much less time she spent with him.

As she regretted all those late nights at work, she turned another page and caught her breath. It was a quick, rough sketch of herself and Patrick on the couch at the farmhouse, his arm around her shoulders. They were apparently watching TV, but in this moment, they were looking at each other. Their faces were the most well-defined part of the drawing, indicating that their expressions were what had caught Liam's interest.

They were smiling at each other, obviously sharing a moment, maybe a private joke, to judge by the crinkles around their eyes. Patrick's lips were curved in what she thought of as his private smile, the gentle, sweet one he gave only to those he loved. She hadn't realized she had one too. They looked so happy, so in love.

She'd always felt blessed by how stable their marriage was, unthreatened by economic stress as her parents' had been and founded on a partnership that had thrived years before love came into the picture. She'd sometimes thought their marriage would survive even loss of love, but fortunately she'd never had to find out. Until, possibly, now.

She sat down on the bed, her legs trembling with a sudden onslaught of emotion that wouldn't be controlled. The sketchbook fell to her lap, reproaching her with her son's emotional sensitivity, now thrust into danger because of her carelessness. A tear fell onto the paper, and she covered her face with her hands to keep the others from blemishing it.

Her muffled sobs must have carried, because a few minutes later, she felt Patrick's arms close around her, holding her against his chest. "You are not alone," he whispered, kissing her head. "And you never will be. No matter how this turns out."

He always knew exactly what she needed to hear. She put her arms around him and hugged hard, her tears wetting his shoulder.

After a moment, he said softly, "Close the door, Princess."

Teresa heard the door shut, and she tried to get herself under control so as not to frighten her daughter. The bed dipped as Victoria sat beside her and slipped her good arm around her, laying her head on her shoulder.

The three of them cried together for what could only have been a few minutes but felt like longer. When her tears stopped flowing, Teresa sat up and kissed Patrick's cheek, then Victoria's. "Thank you," she said hoarsely.

"We're in this together," Patrick replied.

"Yes, we are," she agreed. She straightened, drawing on a reserve of strength she had thought was gone. "And we should get back to work. Victoria, I think you should stay in our room tonight, so we need to change your bed so Wylie and Vega can get some sleep."

Patrick said, "I'll help with that. We should make sure they get at least a few hours so they're fresh for tomorrow. That goes for the two of you as well."

"Yeah, right," Teresa and Victoria sighed simultaneously.

mmm

Several hours later, Teresa leaned back from her laptop and rubbed her eyes. She hadn't been able to turn up a solid suspect from her trial list, but she still felt the answer had to be there.

Patrick's hands landed on her shoulders, massaging gently. "If the answer was on a screen," he remarked, "you'd have found it already. What does your gut say?"

She scowled. "I believe in police work, Patrick. Not guesswork."

"Years of police work have given you good instincts. What do they say?" When she didn't immediately answer, he said, "Come now, Teresa. Just say it. I know you have someone in mind."

Acutely aware that Vega and Wylie were watching, she sighed, "Bertram."

"Hm." Patrick rocked back on his heels. "Me too. He has the appropriately ruined life and a vengeful temperament. His ill health wouldn't prevent him hiring help."

"With what? His assets were confiscated when he was convicted," Teresa pointed out.

"Meh, a cunning criminal like him squirreled away enough money for contingencies. We need to find and follow it. I'll call Moore and have him pay Gale another visit. I wonder if he has an alibi for Schultz's murder?"

"We didn't turn up any connection between him and Mitchell," she pointed out.

"He probably followed all the trials," Patrick replied. "And we might not have rooted out all his contacts."

Teresa nodded. "So if this is revenge, should we give him what he wants? Go on TV and beg or something?"

Patrick hummed a little as he thought it over. "Not a bad idea. Assuming he is still in California, he'll be relying on what he can glean from there."

Wylie said, "I can run facial recognition through the TSA records for the last couple days, see if he flew here, maybe under a different identity."

"Good idea," Teresa said.

Victoria was frowning. "How does that help us find Liam? Even if you arrest him, he won't talk if he wants you to suffer."

And a dying man had nothing to lose, nothing they could apply as leverage, Teresa thought. "We need to still track Mitchell down. She's the key to Liam."

Wylie stifled a yawn as he turned back to his keyboard, and Teresa realized how late it was getting. "Wylie, Vega, why don't you grab a couple hours of sleep. You too, Victoria. Patrick and I will keep working and wake you when we need to rest."

She was met with a chorus of protests: "I'm good" from Wylie, "No need" from Vega, and "Mom!" from Victoria.

"We insist," Patrick replied. "We'll wake you if there's any news. Come on, I'll get you set up."

Reluctantly, they followed him down the hall, after Wylie gave Teresa quick instructions about the searches he was running. She sat at the table and stared at his screen, taking a deep breath in the sudden silence.

Whatever tomorrow brought, at least her entire team wouldn't be sleep deprived. She and Patrick would work through the night, more because sleep was an impossibility than because they expected to be productive. But as long as they kept working, they had hope for a breakthrough. If they stopped, they might fall into despair. And that wouldn't help Liam.

She rubbed at her eyes and refocused on the screen.

mmm

The morning dawned grey and threatening rain. Patrick had dozed off and on, waking abruptly and looking sick each time. She didn't ask about his nightmares; neither of them wanted to talk about the cases they'd seen go badly.

Her head was pounding no matter how much caffeine she drank, so when her phone rang it took her a minute to realize what it was. Seeing Cho's name on the screen, she grabbed it. "You're here?"

"Just landed. Any word?"

"No." She held in a sigh.

Patrick came over and held out his hand, and she gave him the phone. "Which TV station should we call?" He listened. "Okay. No, we won't go anywhere until you get here. Yes, really. I'm cooking breakfast. See you soon." He disconnected but kept her phone, looking up a number. A minute later she heard him ask for the station manager.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Cho was the person she most wanted looking for Liam right now. He'd keep Patrick from doing anything stupid and run down every lead with implacable determination.

Patrick's hands landed on her shoulders, massaging her aching neck. "I'll get breakfast started. The camera crew will be here in an hour."

She blinked. "So fast?"

"Missing kids are news," he said grimly. He finished his quick massage and set her phone down beside her before heading to the kitchen.

Teresa rolled her shoulders, feeling better for his efforts but disturbed by his news. The last thing she wanted was to deal with the media and play the victim. But if it would buy Liam time, she would do it.

Her phone rang again, and she picked it up. "Hi, Stan."

"Hey, Teresa." He didn't ask how she was holding up, and she was grateful. "We've been trying to track down Bertram all night with no luck. TSA hasn't seen him either."

"Yes, our searches haven't turned him up either."

"Van Pelt had an idea to search at private air terminals, but their footage is lousy. She found three flight plans that would have taken him to your area last night though. We'll keep looking, but it's possible he's there, not here."

"Tell her thanks. Cho just landed, and we're going to make a plea on television in an hour."

"Good luck. We're helping sort through the social media leads as well. Not many tourists in your area, but your dog park is popular. We have at least one shot of Mitchell and one of her accomplice so far. No ID on him, but he's about Bertram's height. If he lost weight during his illness, it might be him."

Teresa had assumed the accomplice was a hired gun, but this new theory was chilling. If Bertram was personally involved in Liam's kidnapping, he was in more danger than he might realize. "I hope not."

"Me too," Moore agreed. "We'll keep trying to run him down. Mason and Smith both claim they haven't been in contact with him, but we're working that angle too. He doesn't seem to have gotten much correspondence in prison but we're looking for known associates. Let us know if you come up with anything else."

"We will. Thanks, Stan." She disconnected as Victoria shuffled into the living room, looking like she hadn't slept much. "Morning, sweetie."

"Morning, Mom. Anything new?"

Teresa shook her head. "Nothing concrete. How's Belle?"

"She woke up for a while and drank some water," she replied. "Can I go see her?"

"Sure. But we have a TV crew coming in an hour, so it'll have to be after that."

Victoria scrunched up her nose. "Guess I better get in the shower then. Do I smell bacon?"

"Your dad's fixing breakfast. Better hurry."

mmm

Cho got there in time for a few slices of bacon before the camera crew was scheduled to arrive. Wylie and Vega were awake and working, and Teresa had freshened up and changed clothes. Their greetings were muted, but she felt immeasurably better having Cho nearby.

Patrick put on a suit but didn't shave, then gathered the family and Cho in the living room. "We want to look like we're falling apart. That's what he wants to see. We want him to enjoy it so much he keeps Liam alive to continue torturing us, despite the risk of getting caught."

Victoria said, "So I should cry?"

"You're not going on camera," Patrick replied.

"Why not?" she demanded. "He's my brother."

"You're not the target," he said. "There's no need for you to be involved."

Her mulish expression was one Teresa recognized and dreaded. "If this person hates you so much, he'll be happy you're upset. But maybe he'll feel bad if he sees what he's done to me, an innocent kid."

Teresa glanced at Patrick, who said, "He's a sociopath, Princess. He doesn't care about other people's feelings. But if you really want to, then yes, you can be on camera with us."

"I really want to," she informed him, then marched down the hall into her room.

Cho said, "You got a picture of Liam to hold?"

"Yes," Teresa replied. "In our room." She went to the master bedroom and picked up Liam's senior portrait, leaving Victoria's in place on her nightstand. She stood still for a moment, tracing her son's features with a finger and ignoring the doorbell, followed by the sounds of the camera crew arriving.

A quiet knock on the bedroom door shook her out of her reverie, and she looked over her shoulder to find Cho there. "Mind if I run some calls in here?" he asked.

"Sure." She frowned, surprised.

He met her gaze with sympathy. "You don't need me out there. And I sent Vega and Wylie out to check the perimeter."

She knew what he was implying: it would be easier for her to play a victim without her colleagues watching. "Thanks."

"No problem." He hesitated, then said, "You're still the toughest cop I know."

Teresa blinked back a tear. "Thanks, Kimball."

His grave smile steadied her as she left the room and headed for the sounds of Patrick directing the cameraman, reporter, and Victoria, apparently determined to set the perfect stage for their plea. Teresa was surprised to find her daughter wearing an old pink sweatshirt and her sling, with her hair in a messy ponytail. She looked younger than her age, which had to be deliberate since she usually tried to appear older.

"Ah, there you are," Patrick said, motioning for her to join him and Victoria in the dining room. He drew her and Victoria into a huddle and said quietly, "Think of this as a play of sorts. Teresa, you are feeling guilty and helpless."

"No acting required, then," she muttered.

"Victoria, you're worried I'm about to crack up and mad at your mom but trying not to show it."

"Okay." She nodded, her expression serious.

"And I am being a self-absorbed jerk who blames my wife for something she couldn't help and is too busy dreading his past repeating itself to notice that his family needs him." Patrick grimaced, squeezing Teresa's shoulder. "Ready?"

"Ready," Victoria said.

"Let's get this over with," Teresa agreed.

"I'll do all the talking," Patrick assured her.

She looked closely at him. He was usually a little weirded out by TV cameras, for obvious reasons. But now he just looked determined. "Okay," she replied.

He smiled at her briefly before turning and going back to the living room, settling himself on the couch in front of the camera. Victoria went with him, leaving Teresa to follow by herself. When she joined them on the sofa, Patrick scooted away from her and toward Victoria, which hurt even though she knew it was part of the play.

"Hi," said the good-looking young man standing nearby. "I'm Jack, and I'll be conducting the interview. Just relax and treat it like a conversation, okay? Hopefully we'll get your son home soon."

She nodded, biting her tongue so she wouldn't respond that law enforcement professionals would do that. Jack stepped forward to help her position Liam's portrait, saying, "That's Maggie on the camera. Don't look at her; you want to look into the lens, okay?" He stepped back. "Ready? This isn't live, so we can always edit. No need for nerves."

Her son was missing and he thought she was nervous about a stupid camera? Teresa huffed under her breath, making Patrick's mouth twitch into a wry smile for just a second.

Jack settled in the chair perpendicular to the sofa, faced the camera, and did an introductory spiel she barely listened to. She was thinking about Bertram. If he was really behind this, what would he want to see? Her defeat, probably. Enough suffering to balance out his time in prison.

"So I understand Liam went missing yesterday," Jack said to them. "Can you tell us what you know?"

Patrick replied, "Liam was with our dog and my wife, Teresa, in the dog park. Teresa saw someone who's a suspect in an open FBI investigation and went after her. It was a trap, and Dr. Emily Mitchell and an unknown armed accomplice knocked her out and took Liam."

Victoria sniffed, "And nearly killed our dog."

Jack said, "And the police aren't having any luck?"

"Both the police and FBI are doing all they can, but this was carefully planned by someone very smart," Patrick said. "We think it's someone who may have been involved in an old case of ours." He paused, resting his hands on his knees and lowering his head. "A long time ago, I had another family. My first wife and a little girl named Charlotte. I went on television and said some things about a serial killer, and he killed them both to punish me. I spent years hunting him down—that's how Teresa and I met. When we...when we found out we were going to have a child, we did everything we could to make sure they'd be safe. That's always been our priority. And we succeeded...until yesterday."

Teresa swallowed hard and looked down.

Jack's voice was sympathetic. "And there's been no ransom demand?"

"No." Patrick grew increasingly choked up. "I don't think this is about money." He looked at the camera again. "This is about punishing me. Just like Red John did. And I can't...I can't survive another child's death. So I'm begging whoever has him: give him back. You can do whatever else you want to me. Just let him live."

Jack turned to the camera. "And we're asking our viewers to be on the lookout for Liam, who's pictured here, along with Emily Mitchell. If you have seen either of them in the last 24 hours, please contact the police right away."

Victoria burst out, "Liam, if you're watching, don't give up! We'll find you!" She wiped at her streaming eyes, and Patrick put an arm around her.

Maggie said, "And cut."

Jack looked at Patrick and Victoria, then turned to Teresa. "We'll get this on air right away. If there's anything else we can do, just let us know."

"Thank you," she replied.

"Unless you want another take?" he suggested. "You didn't get to say anything."

"No. That was fine. Thank you." She stood, and Jack and Maggie began packing up.

Teresa glanced at her husband and daughter, but she knew Patrick would keep up the act in case Jack or Maggie were prone to gossip. So she carried Liam's portrait back to the master bedroom, where Cho was just pocketing his cell phone.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess. Any news?" She put the picture frame back on her nightstand.

"Van Pelt thinks she saw Bertram on a security camera at the airport in Stafford, off one of the chartered flights she was looking into. She's sending the image now."

"Good. If he's here, we'll need a recent image to circulate to hotels."

Cho nodded. "We'll start with the upscale ones."

Victoria came into the room and gave Teresa a one-armed hug. "Dad says we did great."

Teresa closed her eyes and hugged back as tightly as she could while being careful of the sling. "You were very good," she whispered.

"Can I go see Belle now?"

"When Agent Vega gets back," Teresa replied. Then she frowned. "No, you know what? I'll go with you."

Victoria said, "Won't that undermine the play? If Dad really blamed you for Liam, he wouldn't let me go with just you, would he?'

Teresa swallowed. "You're right."

Cho said, "I'll go with you. I can see if they found any trace evidence."

"Then I'll stay here," Teresa decided. She wanted to make sure Patrick didn't run off, and she wasn't sure Vega or Wylie could stop him.

As Victoria left to get her coat, Teresa stopped Cho. "She had a wild idea of using herself for bait. And she's just like her father."

"I got this," Cho assured her.

"I know." She watched him go, then sat down on the foot of the bed, listening to all the activity in the living room. Vega and Wylie arrived just as the TV people were leaving, and she heard Cho and Victoria say goodbye shortly afterward.

A few minutes later, Patrick joined her, closing the door behind him. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she sighed. Then she looked closely at him as he sat beside her. "I thought you'd go with Victoria."

"I wasn't sure I could stand it," he admitted. "I'm...not holding up as well as I'm pretending, Teresa."

She put her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "Me either."

Thy sat like that for a few minutes, until there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Teresa said, straightening.

Wylie poked his head into the doorway. "Alexandria police just found a body washed up in the Potomac."

Teresa suddenly felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She couldn't breathe. Her heart pounded, her pulse drowning out all other sound momentarily. Beside her, she heard Patrick make a choked grunt like an injured animal, and her grip on him tightened instinctively.

"Oh." Wylie looked chagrined. "It's not Liam. Sorry. I didn't think—it's a woman. They think it's Emily Mitchell."

Teresa squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath, hearing Patrick do the same.

Wylie continued, "Do you want them to hold off moving the body until you can inspect the scene?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "Yes." He looked at Teresa, then took her hand. "Let's go."


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note:** Happy 2018! My new year's resolutions include finishing this story and starting some of my other (shorter) story ideas. I'm looking forward to another fun year with all of you!

* * *

 **Chapter 31**

Patrick stared out the car window but saw nothing of the passing scenery. His mind just kept repeating Wylie's words: It's not Liam.

Teresa, beside him in the back seat, reached for his hand, and he laced his fingers with hers. Their gazes met briefly, but neither of them had any answers about what Mitchell's death meant for Liam.

Vega was driving, and Wylie was in the front seat talking to Cho. Mid-morning traffic wasn't bad, so they were soon passing through Old Town and heading down the Mount Vernon Parkway. Two police cars and an ambulance occupied one of the scenic overlooks on the Potomac River, and Vega made a left turn to squeeze onto the little space remaining.

Teresa was out of the car and looking for a way down to the riverbank before Patrick even got his door closed. This time of year, the foliage was just starting to grow back, nearly concealed by the dead remnants of last season. The tide was coming in, so time was of the essence, he thought as he followed her.

The river smell got stronger as they approached the group of police standing on a flat, muddy stretch that would be underwater at high tide. The body wouldn't be pretty, he knew, readying himself.

There were brief introductions, which he ignored, trusting Teresa and the others to remember names and play nice. He focused on Mitchell, looking for clues.

There were no marks on her hands or face that he could see, though she was bloated from her time in the water. She was fully dressed, including coat and shoes, so she had been either dead or unconscious when she went into the river.

Standing, he tuned in to the conversation around him. Someone reported, "Single gunshot to the back of the head, execution style. She had her ID on her but no phone."

Disposed of, having outlived her usefulness, Patrick guessed. With a chill, he suppressed the logical corollary: that she was no longer useful because Liam didn't need guarded anymore.

He was definitely not going to voice that theory. He couldn't even bear thinking it.

"Nothing else?" Teresa asked.

"Here's the wallet." An officer handed her the thin fabric wallet, encased in an evidence bag.

Patrick knelt beside the body again. The river smells overrode any scent clues, and the shoes were soaked and too worn to have kept any evidence of surfaces they'd trod. Looking around, he found a twig nearby and used it to poke around her sodden clothes, pulling back her coat to examine her clothes more closely. Perhaps Liam had managed to slip a clue into her pocket.

Teresa knelt beside him, snapping on a pair of latex gloves and helping him search. Mitchell's pockets were empty, but Teresa proceeded to pat down the corpse with grim determination. This was their only solid link to their son, and they were not going to give up on finding a lead until they'd exhausted all options.

"Ah ha." Teresa pulled a small photo from the dead woman's bra. It was a faded picture of a young boy. "Her son, I guess. Kept close to her heart where most people don't search."

Patrick hoped Liam had remembered about Mitchell's son and parlayed that into an escape, or at least protection from Bertram. Though that could only have been temporary at best. And if Liam had escaped, where was he? He surely would have called by now.

"There's something on the back." Teresa frowned at the washed out ink. "A phone number maybe?"

He peered at it over her shoulder. "Recently written down, I'd guess." He stared at the numbers he could make out, puzzled at the sense of familiarity they evoked. Struck by a sudden hopeful suspicion, he took out his phone and scrolled through his contact list.

"Eureka," he whispered.

"What?" Teresa replied.

"We need to go." He pocketed his phone and stood, extending a hand to help her up.

"What?" she persisted, scrambling to keep up as he hurried back toward the car. "We should wait for Vega and Wylie."

"No, we really shouldn't," he replied, already planning how to get around the fact that Vega had the key.

In the end, he didn't have to. Cho pulled up just as they reached the roadway, Victoria looking anxiously out the passenger window. Patrick yanked open the door to the back seat. "We need to go somewhere crowded. Does this car have GPS tracking?"

Cho did something with his phone. "Not anymore."

Teresa slid in beside Patrick. "What's going on? Whose phone number was that?"

"Jason Cooper's. I think he knows where Liam is," he replied.

Victoria twisted around to give him a look of hopeful excitement, while Teresa looked worried. She'd never trusted anyone connected to Visualize, and she'd never wanted her kids anywhere near the cult.

Cho said, "Mount Vernon's visitor center is usually full of school kids. Crowded enough?"

"Yes." He just needed someplace anyone tracking them would have a hard time. A tourist attraction would work nicely. "Security cameras?"

"Some, but it's privately owned," Cho replied.

That meant law enforcement wouldn't have automatic access to the footage. "Perfect. Don't run the lights. Low key," Patrick said.

"Got it." Cho pulled into traffic with a smooth turn, heading south. He was careful to keep pace with the other cars on the road, who were all speeding, which helped keep Patrick's impatience at bay.

Teresa said, "You still remember his number after all these years? What if it's changed?"

He shook his head. "He made a point to come see me while we were here setting up the condo. Liam was with me. He gave us his business card."

"Wait." Teresa frowned. "So you don't think he's in on it?"

"He has nothing to gain and a lot to lose from this. No." Patrick tried to sound reassuring. "I think Liam used Mitchell's grief for her own son to gain her sympathy and help. And I think Cooper's the one he sent her to for that help."

"What? Why not us?" Teresa demanded.

"Because obviously we're under surveillance of some kind," Patrick explained. "Liam must have figured that out."

Victoria turned in her seat. "You think he escaped?"

"Yes, or at least made a creditable attempt. Why kill Mitchell unless she'd proven an untrustworthy accomplice?"

Teresa grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. He squeezed back. Her eyes told him she'd been running the odds in her head and concluding they would probably never see their son again, but now she was giving in to hope.

"He could have at least texted me," Victoria grumbled, facing front again.

Cho snorted. "He might have thought you'd do something rash, like trying to ditch your backup out the side door."

Patrick felt a chill as he realized Cho wasn't making up that scenario. Victoria's huff confirmed it.

Cho said, "If you're right, are you sure Cooper's on our side?"

"Cooper cares about Visualize. Tampering with our family and dredging up the past can only end badly for them. If he knows where Liam is, he'll help." Patrick's fingers twitched with the need to make his call, but he would wait. He wouldn't draw the attention of Bertram's spies to Cooper if he could help it.

Teresa said, "What should we do if he has Liam?"

"We need to trap Bertram and put a stop to this. Easy to do if Liam's with Cooper. Harder if he's still with Bertram. We need to see what Cooper knows before we make plans."

Cho said, "How sure are you it's Bertram?"

"Pretty sure," Patrick replied.

"He probably needs some pretty heavy medication," Cho mused. "I'll have Wylie keep an eye out for prescriptions being filled."

"We'll never find him like that. We need to lure him out." Patrick frowned. "The question is, what to use as bait?"

It wasn't a question, of course. Bertram wanted revenge, and what better revenge than to bring the genius ex-pain-in-the-ass-consultant to his knees?

"Me," Teresa said.

"No." Patrick shook his head. "And not you either, Victoria. Bertram's ego will drive him to prove he's smarter than me. I can challenge him, and he won't be able to resist. The trick will be making the trap something he won't be looking for."

Teresa looked unhappy. "One thing at a time. Getting Liam back is more important than catching Bertram. He's dying anyway."

Victoria muttered, "Not soon enough."

It was a measure of Teresa's anger at Bertram that she didn't reprimand her daughter. "How far are we, Cho?"

"A couple more miles."

It felt much longer before Cho pulled into one of the parking lots tucked into the woods near the road. He then led them to the main entrance to the estate, where they had to stand in a short line to buy tickets. Then they were free to browse the grounds, passing the crowded orientation center.

"Somewhere we won't be overheard," Patrick said. "But not where we stand out."

"Back by the river," Cho suggested.

It was a chilly day, with most people hurrying inside where possible. The line of tourists waiting to enter the iconic white home with its red roof and green shutters were huddling close or horsing around, childish laughter filling the air.

It made Patrick's heart ache. Liam would love looking around here, he knew. He would bring him once this was over. One nice spring day, they'd go over the whole place at their leisure.

For now, they made their way to the back of the house, which sat on a hill overlooking the Potomac. There were a few hardy souls out for a stroll, but there was plenty of empty space.

Patrick took out his burner phone, hoping the others would believe his hands were shaking from the cold, not nerves. Then he dialed Cooper's number, trying to control his shaky breathing and pounding heart.

Each ring was torture. He counted one, two, three, and an unbearable four before he heard Cooper's voice. "Hello?"

He sounded puzzled; he probably didn't get many calls on this line from unknown numbers.

"Don't say my name. You recognize my voice?"

"Yes." Cooper's tone was dry. "And the arrogance."

"Do you know why I'm calling?" Patrick's throat kept trying to close. What if he was wrong? Liam might just as easily be floating in the river below as standing beside Cooper. He was suddenly terrified.

"I may have an idea. Please hold for a moment."

Patrick focused on not hyperventilating as the line went silent. He met Teresa's eyes, wide in her alarmingly pale face, then looked at Victoria, whose naked hope betrayed her naïveté. Cho was facing away, scanning the area for threats. His solid presence was reassuring even in this excruciating moment.

"Dad?"

A sob heaved its way out of Patrick's chest too fast for him to even try to stop it. He tried to form words in vain.

Teresa snatched the phone out of his hand. "Liam?" As she listened, her smile lit her face despite her tears.

"Speakerphone!" Victoria demanded, sliding her good arm around Patrick and hanging on tightly.

Teresa fumbled a bit but managed to find the speakerphone. "You're on speaker," she said automatically, her voice shaking.

"You okay?" Victoria demanded.

"Yeah." Liam's voice was a little strange through the cheap phone's bad speakers, but it was definitely him.

Patrick's relief was so intense that he didn't know how his body could contain such a huge swell of emotion. He tried to even out his breathing so he could hear what his son was saying.

"I'm safe. Mister, uh, C. is working on a plan to catch the man who took me. Is Belle okay?"

Victoria said, "She had to have surgery, but she's hanging in there."

Teresa asked, "Why didn't you call us?"

"You didn't give me your burner phone number," Liam said, sounding aggrieved. "I have it now though. And I have one too. We shouldn't keep talking on this line. I'll call you back in a minute."

He disconnected.

Patrick put an arm around Teresa and Victoria and drew them into a hug, resting his cheek in Teresa's hair and closing his eyes. It didn't stop his tears, though. To judge by the way Teresa was shaking, he didn't think he was the only one.

"Let's go," Cho said, shaking them out of their quiet celebration.

It was cold out, so Patrick didn't object. They walked as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves, Teresa's hand clutching at his and keeping him grounded as his mind went round and round a single thought: his son was alive. Alive.

They had barely made it to the car when Liam called back. "Are you somewhere you can talk?"

"We're in the car," Teresa said. "You're on speaker, and Cho is with us."

"Hi, Uncle Cho," Liam said.

"Where are you?" Teresa demanded.

"Mr. C's apartment. He just got into town when I called, which was lucky. He says it's safe here; a shell company pays the rent."

"We're coming to get you," she said.

"No! Then he'll know where I am. He's watching you."

Teresa looked at Patrick, who was equally torn. They needed to see their son, to put their arms around him and reassure themselves he was really okay. But he had a point.

"How is he watching us?" Patrick asked.

"I don't know exactly, but I think he hired somebody. Like a PI, I guess. He's the one who helped Dr. Mitchell take me. Did she get in touch with you yet?"

They looked at each other again. "In a roundabout way, yes," Patrick said after a pause. He didn't want Liam to feel guilty and not be there to help him understand that her death wasn't his fault.

Cho asked, "It's Bertram?"

"Yeah. He looks really different from his pictures though. A lot older and thinner. And he has this wig thing. It's brown."

"What did he say to you?" Patrick asked.

"Not a lot. I think he was disappointed I don't look like you," Liam said. "He said he could see I was my mother's child. So I made sure to act like a Lisbon, not a Jane. Dr. Mitchell thought he was just trying to scare you and would let me go, but I could see in his eyes that he planned to kill me."

His voice trembled a little, and Patrick felt rage that his son had been made to fear for his life. Bertram was going to meet his end sooner than his illness could kill him.

Victoria said, "What did you do?"

"He had to go take some medicine and then he fell asleep. So I talked to Dr. Mitchell, asked her about her little boy."

"How did you know she had one?" she asked,.

"Research, Vic. You should do it more," he teased.

Patrick couldn't help a little grin at how normal that sounded. He took a moment to be fervently grateful that Liam had his mother's resilience.

"I told her he was going to kill me, and if she didn't believe me, she should ask him straight out and look for his tell. His eye twitched when he told me I'd be home soon, so I figured that was it. I guess she saw it when she talked to him after he woke up, because when he took his medicine again, she gave me her cell phone and left the door unlocked. I got out of there and called Mr. C."

Patrick wondered what he was leaving out, but there would be time for that later.

Cho said, "Where were you held?"

"Someplace in Southeast, over what used to be a tattoo parlor. But he'll be long gone. He's not stupid. Besides, we don't want to mess up the plan."

Teresa sounded as wary as Patrick felt. "What plan?"

"Right now he doesn't know what's happened to me, but if I go home, he'll try something else. Mr. C and I thought maybe we should fake my death. He'd want to watch you grieve in person, so maybe he'd get careless."

It sounded like a Jane plan, all right. But Patrick had absolutely no stomach for it, and he knew Teresa wouldn't either. He said, "I agree we should keep your whereabouts secret. Let's hold off on staging any funerals, though."

Cho said, "Would he be willing to have Victoria, too?"

"I don't see why not. This place is huge. But how would you send her without him knowing? Smuggle her out with the trash?"

"Eew, no," Victoria said indignantly.

Patrick wasn't sure he liked the idea of parting with Victoria. "We have a lot of planning to do. Call us tonight, okay?"

"Sure. Hey, pet Belle for me."

"Love you," Teresa said, only a split second before Patrick and Victoria.

"Love you too," Liam responded before disconnecting.

mmm

They managed to keep up the act of a tense, worried family until they were safely back home, and then once they were sure they were in private, their relief broke out in a series of tearful hugs and a little jumping up and down, mostly on Victoria's part. Cho accepted hugs with his usual stoicism, but his eyes were smiling, and once Wylie and Vega arrived and were brought up to date, they both wore wide grins.

Patrick hated to kill the mood, but he felt compelled to say, "This isn't over. Bertram will have a plan B."

Cho nodded. "If he really hates you, killing Liam wasn't his whole plan."

"I imagine," Patrick said, "he'll target Victoria next. Then Teresa. I'll be last, because he hates me most."

Wylie frowned. "Isn't he dying? He can't be counting on pulling off complicated plots for all four of you."

"Should we run now?" Victoria asked. "Time is on our side, right?"

Teresa looked at Patrick. He could see she was thinking the idea had merit, even though it went against all her cop instincts.

"No. We need to stop him." He was damned if he was going to run. "But the most important thing is that you stay safe. No trying to run off. Promise?"

"I promise," she said, matching his sober tone.

"Then I think you're going to get your wish to be bait. But only if you agree to do exactly as you're told," he added quickly.

Victoria nodded. "Of course! What's the plan?"

"Still working on it, but it involves buying you a ticket on a flight to Chicago to stay with your uncles. From a small airport where we can set up a trap."

Teresa looked as terrified at the idea as he felt. He looked at Cho for a more objective opinion.

Cho looked dubious. "What about a more direct challenge?"

"Go on TV and call him out?" Patrick swallowed hard. The parallel to Red John was unavoidable.

"He wants to beat you. That would be the ultimate revenge. If you make it between you and him, it takes his focus off your family."

Teresa said, "I don't like the idea of a duel."

Cho replied, "It's not like we'll let him go alone. Think about it: with Liam missing as far as he knows, if we make him believe you and Victoria have gone to Chicago, he'll move to his end game and go for Jane."

"Will he buy that I'd just leave?" Teresa asked doubtfully. "And that Patrick would stay?"

Patrick wasn't sure they could sell that either. "If we had a fight in public? But if I'm blaming you for Liam, I wouldn't let you take Victoria."

"Let me?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

He was glad she was feeling confident enough to tease him. "Let's say I wouldn't agree to it. Would you really take her and leave me alone?"

"Of course not. But does Bertram know that?"

"His knowledge is eighteen years out of date," Patrick mused.

Cho said, "Except for what his surveillance has told him."

Patrick wondered about that bug in the farmhouse kitchen. Had Bertram been involved in that, or had access to the recordings? "It would be far more believable for me to run off on my own," he said.

Teresa and Cho got identical looks of alarm. Just like the old days, he thought.

Victoria said, "Oh please. Nobody's going to buy either of you leaving. We need to stage our own kidnapping."

In the ensuing silence, Cho made a noise almost like a grunt. "That's a Jane plan," he remarked.

Patrick disliked it, but mostly for practical reasons. "Who could we trust to do it?" he asked. "If there's surveillance, he knows where all the people we trust are and would notice if one goes missing. And I'm not hiring a stranger to kidnap my daughter. Too many things could go wrong."

"I agree," Teresa said firmly.

"What about Liam?" Victoria persisted. "He has access to Visualize's resources right now. And you trust him, right?"

Patrick was stunned into silence for a moment. This, he realized, is what Teresa must have felt like all the times he'd sprung a crazy—but brilliant—plan on her. Her expression confirmed it.

Cho said, "Bertram will suspect us. He'll know he didn't do it, and how likely is it that someone else would pick now to grab Victoria?"

Victoria said, "I'll get Brett to drop out of sight for a day or two. Mom can fly to California to look for me, making it look like we ran off together. I can plant some evidence, like texts or something."

Patrick swallowed hard. He realized he didn't know if he could do this, send his daughter off to an unknown location and then have Teresa fly across country. "That only works if your mom and I are distracted by something big enough that we have to leave you with someone other than Cho."

Vega suggested, "A trip to the morgue to look at a John Doe?"

"Slow down," Teresa said, holding up a hand. "I'm not okay with this. I don't trust Jason Cooper. I don't like Liam being with him, and I certainly don't want to send Victoria there."

"I'm open to suggestions," Patrick told her. "But Bertram won't just give up and go away. He's had time to think of his next move, so if we want to stay one step ahead, we need to—"

He broke off as the fire alarm made them all jump.

 _Here we go,_ he thought as a chill ran down his spine.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note:** For some reason, I really struggled with this chapter. I hope it doesn't show too much!

* * *

 **Chapter 32**

Teresa struggled to think through the adrenaline rush caused by the fire alarm. Cho said, "Wylie, find out if there's really a fire."

"On it," he responded, pouncing on his keyboard.

Patrick turned to Vega. "Vega, Victoria, you go switch outfits. And find hats or hoods. Don't forget the sling."

"Right," Vega nodded, following Victoria back to her room.

Teresa swallowed. "He'll expect us to go out the loading dock, right?"

"Right," Patrick said. "So we send Victoria out the front with Vega, Wylie, and you. Cho and I will go out the loading dock."

"I go with you," Teresa insisted.

"If you go out the front, you can circle around and trap him," Patrick said, but he couldn't fool her. He wanted her out of the action, and there was no way she was going to sit on the sidelines.

"Cho can do that." She folded her arms.

"He'll expect Cho to be with us," Patrick argued. "We can't send him with Victoria. It'd be like a big arrow saying 'here she is.'"

"The same for me," she pointed out. "Victoria should go with Wylie and Vega. Cho and I should stick with you."

"There's a real fire," Wylie reported. "The sprinklers have gone off in the garage. We should go before the stairwells get too smokey."

Patrick frowned. "We should take Vega with us disguised as Victoria. Does she have a vest?"

"Not with us," Wylie said, looking worried.

"Then no." Teresa was relieved—she'd rather have two agents with her daughter anyway. "Too risky."

Patrick nodded. "I think Bertram will go straight for us at this point. Let's finish this."

He patted his pocket, indicating he still had her spare weapon.

Cho said, "I should go out the loading dock first, then."

Vega and Victoria returned, wearing each other's clothes and coats. Vega had added one of Liam's hoodies under the coat to hide her head and face, while Victoria was wearing her hair bundled into a knit hat and a scarf around her lower face. With Vega's arm conspicuously in the sling, it was a believable swap, Teresa thought. It was lucky they were roughly the same size, though it gave her a pang to realize that her daughter was truly past girlhood.

Cho looked them over and nodded, then bent to remove his spare weapon from his ankle holster. He handed it to Victoria. "Don't fire unless you have no choice," he told her. "The paperwork's a bitch."

"Got it." Victoria checked the safety, then slid it into her jacket pocket.

"Keep your head down," Teresa advised. "But look at your surroundings at the same time. You're an FBI agent guarding a civilian. It's your job to be a little paranoid."

Victoria grinned at her. "I know how to act like an FBI agent, Mom." She straightened and stiffened her posture a little, somehow managing to change her whole body language in an instant. Vega slouched a little to add to the effect.

Cho nodded in approval. "Okay. You three go. Hide in the crowd."

Teresa stepped forward to give Victoria a brief but hard hug, careful of her arm, then made sure to catch Vega and Wylie's eyes to convey her trust in them. Patrick focused solely on Victoria, holding her in his arms and whispering advice in her ear until Cho said, "Jane. They need to go. So do we. Get your coat."

Victoria pulled back. "Don't worry, Mr. Jane. Agent Wylie and I will take good care of your daughter," she said soberly, then winked before turning to go.

Teresa headed for the coat rack and tossed Patrick his coat, trying not to notice how sick he looked. But by the time he buttoned his coat, he looked more like himself, except for the lines around his mouth.

Cho drew his weapon and opened the door. "We're clear," he said.

Teresa heard a heavy door close, doubtless the front stairwell door Victoria, Vega, and Wylie had gone through. "Back stairs are to the left," she said, drawing her weapon as well.

They headed out. The hallway was deserted; the few others home at this hour hadn't waited to make plans before evacuating. Once they entered the stairwell, they could hear two people several flights below them, grumbling about going out into the cold and betting some idiot had set their microwave on fire. Teresa hoped Bertram wouldn't shoot her neighbors by accident. Hopefully they would move out of the alley to the street quickly.

When Cho, Teresa, and Patrick emerged into the ground floor hallway adjacent to the loading dock, they paused to make sure no one was coming down after them.

"I should go out alone," Patrick said quietly. "He won't shoot me on sight; he needs to make sure I know he won."

"I go first," Cho insisted.

"He'll shoot you the second you step outside," Patrick said. "Teresa too. I'm the only one who can go through that door and live. I'll move away and distract him, and you can approach through the loading dock and cover me."

Teresa shook her head. "Is it believable you'd go without me?"

"If I sent you with Victoria, yes," he replied. "Teresa, trust me. This is how we need to do this. You and Cho go through the dock."

She scowled, but she couldn't think of another argument, and time was ticking. If they didn't emerge soon, Bertram would go looking and might find Victoria. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "No unnecessary risks, Patrick!"

"I promise," he said, and she knew he meant it.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and he squeezed her shoulders as he returned it. Then they parted. Patrick smiled gently, then gave her a jaunty wink before turning to head down the hallway.

Teresa looked at Cho, who nodded and opened the door to the dock. He went first, sweeping the area with his weapon, and Teresa held hers ready as she followed.

A rental truck was backed into the dock, back door open, stacks of boxes inside. It was the perfect place for an ambush, she thought.

She and Cho approached it cautiously, separating so they could cover both sides. There was no noise, and Teresa tried to calm her nerves by telling herself someone's move had been interrupted by the fire alarm. She was anxious to get to the dock edge so she could see Patrick.

Cho nodded, signaling he was going into the truck. Teresa stood to one side, weapon up to cover him.

He was nearly to the back when Teresa heard something. She started to turn, but it was too late—an arm went around her waist and a knife pressed into her neck before she fully processed that someone was behind her.

"Drop the gun, Lisbon," a voice rasped in her ear.

She did, letting it clatter on the concrete to warn Cho. But her attempt was useless, because there was thud from inside the truck, and a moment later a stranger emerged, pulling the door closed behind him and locking it. Teresa swallowed, praying that Cho was still alive.

"Still following procedure, I see," Bertram taunted her. "Even eighteen years married to Jane didn't change that. Thank you for being so predictable."

Her mind raced. Bertram must have known Patrick would want to go into the alley alone and that she and Cho would feel the need to investigate the truck. She cursed herself for not realizing that sooner.

"And this isn't? A knife, seriously?" She was proud she sounded annoyed rather than alarmed.

"Symmetry, Lisbon. Jane's face when I cut your throat will be my revenge. Come along now. And just in case you think you can overpower me, my friend here is prepared to shoot you in the gut. You'll die slowly enough for me to achieve my goal."

He pushed her toward the dock's edge, and she shuffled forward as slowly as she could. Patrick would have figured out by now that he needed a new plan, and hopefully Cho was only unconscious and would escape given enough time. Wylie and Vega were supposed to stay with Victoria, but eventually one of them would come check on the situation.

"Jane!" Bertram called out. "Time to talk."

Patrick stepped into view. He didn't look surprised, but to Teresa's expert eye, his anxiety was palpable. "Gale. I can't say it's a pleasure."

"For me, it is," Bertram retorted. "I hope you've enjoyed the last eighteen years, because your family life is over."

"I have enjoyed them," Patrick said. "More than you can imagine. Whereas I can easily imagine how much you hated them. Tell me, did you decide on this plan before or after your diagnosis?"

"I had a lot of time to think," Bertram said. "But the terminal diagnosis clarified things for me."

"Everyone needs a reason to live." Patrick's voice was dry. "I can testify that revenge works. Clever of you to come up with such a complex plan. It took me far too long to work out what was happening. Where's my son?"

Teresa felt Bertram give an odd little shake. Was he laughing? "You'll never find out. And don't worry—your daughter won't be motherless for long."

"You really think I came out here unprepared?" Patrick chuckled. It sounded convincing. "Teresa and Cho made a nice distraction, didn't they? You see, I knew you were expecting me to be on my own while they did their cop thing. I assume you have an accomplice, which is why Cho hasn't joined us. I hope you haven't hurt him, or this is going to go even worse for you."

"Nice to see you haven't changed. Still the same arrogant son of a bitch you were at the CBI. But I know better. This isn't your plan." Bertram's voice oozed satisfaction. "No plan of yours would ever involve me putting a knife to Lisbon's throat. What's to stop me from cutting her up right here and now?"

"You've had 18 years to look forward to this, and you expect me to believe you'll be satisfied with not even eight minutes of torturing me?" Patrick smirked. "I'm sure you went to some effort to make sure we have the alley to ourselves for a while. Or is the truck yours? Planning to take us somewhere quiet? No? That's what I would have done. I was hoping you'd take us to Liam."

"You'll be reunited soon enough," Bertram said.

Bertram had always been a good bluffer, Teresa reflected. She wasn't in a position to look for his tells, but Patrick was. Of course, he might not believe he was lying.

Patrick continued, "I have to hand it to you, though. Your long game was well played. Not many people could have kept me guessing so long. I assume Alexa Schultz was part of your revenge?"

"The bitch got off much too easy. She sold out the rest of us to get herself a deal, and then she betrayed all of us with that stupid book. Listening to her scream was the most fun I've had in years." Bertram shifted his grip on Teresa, and she couldn't stop a pained gasp as the knife bit into her skin.

Patrick's confidence wavered. "Teresa, are you all right?"

"Fine," she managed to say.

Bertram gave a nasty chuckle. "Not for long. I'm going to enjoy killing two birds with one knife, as it were."

"You can't blame me for protecting my family," she said.

"Oh, yes I can. Because you weren't satisfied with that, were you? You finally got your chance to climb the ladder at CBI. And then you wrote your own ticket with the feds, didn't you? I always knew you were ambitious, Lisbon, but did you ever stop to think who you had to thank for your success? Without Red John, you'd still be solving run of the mill murders and drowning in paperwork."

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "You don't know that."

"Oh, yes I do. I should have fired you long before Red John took an interest in you. Would have saved us all a lot of trouble."

"You tried that," she pointed out. "But you needed me to handle Jane."

"And I still do," he admitted. "Which is why you're still alive. But not for much longer."

Teresa noticed his arms were shaking. She was sure she could take him down, but not without getting hurt, possibly fatally. Plus there was the accomplice to think about. But there had to be a limit to his failing body's endurance, and the more she could stall, the better her odds.

"Oscar," Bertram called. "Relieve Jane of his gun, would you?"

Patrick said, "Why would I have a gun?"

Bertram moved the knife blade, just enough for a small nick. She didn't make a sound, but Patrick's expression told her he'd seen the blood she felt trickling down her neck.

"Okay." Patrick reached into his pocket and put her spare weapon on the ground. Bertram's accomplice jumped down from the loading dock and frisked him for any others, picked up the gun, and then stepped back, nodding to Bertram.

Teresa felt her adrenaline level rise. She could risk her own life trying to get away, but now Patrick was in danger too. "Now what?" she asked. Surely Patrick would come up with something.

The fire alarm stopped, and in the silence she heard a banging noise. It was coming from the truck—Cho was alive!

Bertram grabbed her chin and forced it up, exposing more of her neck and causing her to lose sight of Patrick. She closed her eyes and began to pray silently.

"Wait!" Patrick shouted, panic in his voice.

Teresa tensed, readying herself to knock Bertram off balance, but before she could move, a pair of gunshots made him jump. She felt the blade press into her neck and threw herself backward, reaching up to knock his arm away as they fell. She was vaguely aware of Patrick screaming her name and a crunch of bone as Bertram hit the ground and she landed on top of him, pushing the knife away. It hit the concrete with a clatter.

There was another shot, and Teresa scrambled to her hands and knees so she could search for Patrick, her heart pounding. He was running toward her, eyes huge with fear, and she quickly scanned the area for Bertram's accomplice, who was lying on the ground.

Patrick leapt onto the loading dock, tripping a little and landing on his knees beside her. She barely had time to verify that Bertram was unconscious behind her before she was in her husband's arms, being hugged so tightly she could barely breathe. She hugged back just as hard, breathing a prayer of thanks that he'd come through unscathed.

"Mom? Dad?"

Teresa opened her eyes to find Victoria coming toward them, gun out but properly pointed at the ground, as Wylie covered the accomplice and Vega headed for the truck.

"Cho's in there," she called.

"Got it," Vega replied.

Victoria jumped onto the dock. "You guys okay?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Yes," Patrick said, his voice hoarse as he pulled back to look at Teresa. He unzipped his coat and took out his handkerchief, pressing it to her neck.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Bertram?"

Victoria moved to stand between them and Bertram. "Vega aimed for his leg. Looks like she got him in the knee. He must've hit his head when he fell. You sure you're okay, Mom? Vega didn't want to take the shot, but we were afraid he was going to kill you."

"He was," Patrick said. He reached for Teresa's hand and squeezed it, then reached his other one out to Victoria, touching her foot as if needing to reassure himself she was real. "You were supposed to stay out front."

"You needed backup," she replied. "I told Wylie and Vega that the last place anybody would look for me was back here where it was all happening. Besides, I'm armed."

Teresa looked at her daughter, struck with a dizzying sense of double exposure, her little girl overlaid with the confident, determined young woman in front of her. She tended to think that Victoria was mostly her father's daughter, but at this moment Teresa could clearly see herself in her too.

Wylie joined them. "Paramedics are on their way. Where's Cho?"

Vega said, "In here." She holstered her gun now that she had backup and wrestled the truck's back door open.

Cho stepped out, holding the back of his head and looking annoyed. "Everyone okay?"

Victoria handed him back his weapon as Teresa said, "We're fine. Are you hurt?"

"Guy hit me from behind," Cho grimaced. "You got everybody?"

"Yes," Vega said.

Teresa and Patrick helped each other to their feet gingerly, and with his free arm, Patrick drew Victoria into a hug. "Good work," he whispered to her.

Teresa decided to save her opinions of her daughter's actions for later. In this moment, it only mattered that they were all safe. She draped her free arm over Victoria's shoulders and made it a three-way hug, savoring the warmth and strength of her husband and daughter and letting it sink in that her family was safe. She'd get to hug Liam too, soon, she promised herself.

Cho went over to Bertram and checked his pulse. "He's still alive."

"So's the other guy. He's cuffed," Wylie reported.

"Good work," Teresa said, trying not to sound grudging. Just because it had all worked out for the best didn't mean she approved of them bringing her teenaged daughter into a dangerous situation.

Cho said, "He's coming around."

Everyone turned to look. As Bertram began to stir, Vega covered him with her firearm. Teresa felt Patrick tense and took his hand, squeezing tightly. Much as she wanted to kill Bertram for what he'd done to their family, she didn't want any of them arrested for assault.

Bertram groaned, then blinked. Then he groaned again, his right hand groping the concrete, searching for his knife.

"You're done," Cho told him, ripping his pant leg to get a look at the bullet wound.

"Dammit." Bertram looked at Patrick. "Thought I had you. I had all the variables figured out."

Patrick frowned fiercely, but it was Victoria who spoke. "You didn't have me and Liam figured out. You thought we were pawns on your chessboard. Your mistake."

Bertram grimaced, but Patrick chuckled. "That's my girl," he said quietly.

The ambulance pulled into the alley then, its siren cutting off abruptly. Wylie went to direct them, while Vega and Cho focused on Bertram. Teresa knew they could handle everything, so she said, "Let's get back upstairs. It's time to bring Liam home."

Patrick and Victoria nodded, and they started toward the interior door, leaving the crime scene behind and heading for their new home.

mmm

Victoria lifted Patrick's burner phone as they emerged from the elevator and called Liam before Teresa realized what she was up to. "Hey, guess what? The coast is clear. No more slacking on your chemistry homework. What? Of course I'm not under duress!"

Teresa held out her hand for the phone. "Hi, sweetie."

"Mom! Did you get him?" Liam demanded.

"It was a team effort," she replied. "But yes. Where can we pick you up?"

There was a pause, and she heard his muffled voice on the other end. Then he was back. "We'll meet you at the place where Dad and I ran into my friend before."

"Okay." Teresa glanced at Patrick, who had been listening close to her ear while Victoria unlocked the door. He nodded and said, "Half an hour."

Liam said. "Okay. See you then!"

Teresa disconnected and gave the phone back to Patrick as they went inside. "He's still being careful. Does that mean Bertram might have had more than one accomplice?"

"Doubtful, but possible," Patrick said. "He might be enjoying the subterfuge, or he might be cautious just because he's Liam. If Bertram had more accomplices, Cho will get it out of him."

Victoria asked, "Is it safe to go home now?"

Teresa felt a pang at the idea of being separated again. Patrick glanced at her before saying, "Not tonight. Or tomorrow—we'll need to go make statements. But maybe the day after. Belle isn't likely to go with us, though."

Teresa said, "I'll take good care of her. No need to drag her back and forth across the country. I'll get a dog walker once she's well enough to need one." She would enjoy the company, too, she admitted to herself.

Victoria asked, "Are we leaving now? I want to post that we found Liam and let my friends know."

"We have a few minutes," Patrick said.

Victoria headed for her room, and Patrick turned to hug Teresa again. "You scared me," he whispered.

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. "Me too," she said. "Let's never do that again."

Patrick gave a choked laugh. "Deal."

mmm

Cho came upstairs to check in once Bertram and his accomplice, apparently named Oscar Cordero, were on the way to the hospital under Wylie and Vega's supervision. "Local PD is processing the scene," he told them, concluding his report. "You going to get Liam?"

"Yes," Patrick replied. "Near the Navy Memorial."

"I'll go with you," Cho said.

Teresa appreciated his caution, but it made her uneasy to realize that Cho wasn't sure this was over. She took a minute to wash up and change her shirt, leaving the bloody collar to soak. The small cuts were already healing, but she put some antibiotic cream on them just in case.

The garage was wet, water from the sprinklers pooling in random puddles. Teresa was relieved to see her car was unscathed; she'd wondered if Bertram had set it on fire for spite. She handed Cho the keys and slid into the backseat with Patrick, leaving the passenger seat to Victoria.

Patrick immediately grasped her hand and held it all through the drive, uncharacteristically silent. Victoria chatted with Cho, using an app to find parking near their destination. It all felt shockingly normal after the past few days. Except, of course, that they were on their way to retrieve their kidnapped son. Her arms ached to hold him.

Fortunately there wasn't much traffic at this time of the afternoon, and soon they were crossing the plaza to a little French bakery/cafe. Teresa wasn't at all surprised Cooper and Patrick had met in a place like this.

She was first through the door, looking eagerly around. Liam wasn't in the line or sitting in view of the door, so she hurried through the place, full of maddening nooks and high-backed chairs. It was mostly empty except for a few small groups having meetings over coffee. The face she was looking for wasn't among them.

"Are we early?" she asked Patrick.

"Not by much." He frowned, then seemed to recover himself. "Let's have an early lunch, shall we? I don't know about you, but I'm starving. A sandwich and cup of soup will be just the thing while we wait."

Victoria headed for the counter, not having to be told twice. Teresa let Patrick draw her over to scan the menu board and look at the selection of pastries in the glass case near the checkout, and Cho followed. She wasn't hungry, but Patrick ordered her a chocolate croissant anyway. She opted for the biggest latte they offered, while Patrick ordered a pot of tea and Victoria got a huge hot cocoa. Cho ordered a black coffee.

They gathered around a table in view of the door, settling into the mismatched but comfortable chairs with their drinks while they waited for their food. Cho was tense, scanning their surroundings, while Victoria jiggled her leg, a sure sign of nervous energy. Patrick fussed with his teapot, pretending to be absorbed in making the perfect cup of tea. He wasn't fooling anyone.

Teresa sipped her latte. It was delicious, she had to admit. But she wouldn't be enjoying anything until she could see for her own eyes that Liam was okay.

Jane looked at Cho. "Bertram's alive?"

"Yeah. Not happy to be, though."

Jane nodded, his lips pressed into a thin, hard line. "He didn't expect to be at the end of this."

Cho grimaced into his coffee. "Yeah. It was a dumb plan."

"It was a suicide plan," Jane said. "He just wanted to take us with him."

Teresa wasn't sure she was buying this. "Then why did he hesitate? Why not just cut my throat right away?"

Victoria shifted in her seat, shooting a furtive, alarmed look at her. Then she aimed it at Patrick as he cleared his throat. "Planning to kill yourself is much easier than actually going through with it. He knew he wasn't going to live very long after that, accomplice or no."

Teresa said firmly, "Well, it's over now."

Nobody argued with her, but Cho looked around again.

The front door opened, and they all turned to look hopefully at it, but a pair of businesswomen were the only ones entering. Teresa sighed in disappointment.

"Hey," Liam's voice said from the other direction.

Teresa nearly knocked the table over as she jumped out of her chair, colliding with Patrick as they rushed to hug their son. She found herself squashed in an awkward but enthusiastic three-way embrace, with Liam hugging back hard.

Someone's breathing was a little like sobbing. She hoped it wasn't hers.

After a moment, she pulled back, needing to see his face. She put a hand on his cheek. "Okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom," he replied with a lopsided smile. "You okay?" He sobered as his gaze landed on her neck.

"Now I am," she assured him.

Patrick ruffled Liam's hair, eyes bright and smile wide but trembling, apparently too overwhelmed to speak. Liam grinned back, then reached down and picked up his sister's hot chocolate, taking a long sip.

"Welcome back," Victoria said. "You can have the rest of that. I'll get another." Her casual tone contrasted with her big smile.

Cho got to his feet. "Sit," he told Liam, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You came in through the back door?"

"Yeah," Liam replied. "It doesn't look like you were followed, but I figured it was safer."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Show-off."

"You're just jealous cause I had all the excitement," he grinned.

"Hah. I saved Mom's life," she informed him. "That was plenty exciting."

Cho asked, "Are you by yourself?"

"No, Mr. C brought me." Liam gestured toward the counter, where Jason Cooper was getting a cup of coffee to go.

He took a sip and walked over to them, smiling. "I didn't want to intrude on the family reunion," he said.

"Thank you," Teresa said fervently.

Patrick extended a hand and gave Cooper's a hearty shake. "We can't thank you enough. I'm more than happy to repay any expense you've been put to."

"No need," Cooper replied. "He was surprisingly little trouble, for a Jane. Though there is something you could do, if you wanted to make a gesture of gratitude."

"Name it," Patrick said.

"Publicly acknowledge the church's role in reuniting you with your son."

Teresa grimaced. "It's you we have to thank."

"I was acting on behalf of Visualize," he replied. "Consider it an apology, of sorts. I feel sure Brother Stiles would have approved."

Patrick nodded. "When we speak to the press, we'll be sure to thank Visualize. But it's you I personally thank."

"I'm glad to have had the chance to redeem past mistakes," Cooper said. "I'll ask Brother Kerxton to emphasize focusing on the future, not the past, in his upcoming teaching." He smiled at Liam. "And I see your future is in good hands. I'll leave you to it."

Liam smiled back. "Thanks for everything."

"You're welcome." Cooper nodded to them all and left.

Teresa sat back down, trembling a little from the sheer relief of having her son back. "You're sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," Liam reassured her. "Not even hungry. We had a big breakfast."

"Well, we're starving," Victoria informed him. "So you're going to have to wait until we have lunch."

"Fine. I'll tell you all about my daring escape," Liam said.

Patrick took his seat and reached for Teresa's hand. "We can't wait to hear it."


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note:** The last chapter was posted a few weeks ago when the notification emails were messed up, so make sure you've read that one or you'll be really confused! We're almost there. I expect one more chapter and maybe an epilogue. I'm both glad and sad to have the end in view and suspect I'll be revisiting this family in shorter stories someday. Thanks to all of you who've hung in there!

* * *

 **Chapter 33**

Patrick spent the afternoon looking after his family. They were all tired from the stress of the past few days, though the twins wouldn't admit it and Teresa was powering through with work. She'd sent Cho home to rest and recover from the headache he was trying to conceal, and Wylie and Vega had orders to go home once they were relieved at the hospital. There would be plenty of paperwork, too, Patrick knew. But she showed no sign of heading to the office, needing to be with her family.

Liam and Victoria were in their rooms vidchatting with friends back in California, having checked on Belle via webcam first. Their cheerful voices carried down the hall, reassuring him. They were safe and seemingly unscathed, though he had no doubt there'd be a few nightmares in the future. For all of them.

As he wandered into the living room with his third cup of tea, Teresa looked up from her computer. "Moore says they've answered a lot of questions by looking at Cordero. He was in Sacramento while Red John was active but dropped out of sight afterward. He came back to the U.S. a week after Bertram got out of prison. Grace is helping trace offshore bank account activity for both of them."

"Any sign of others involved?" Patrick asked.

"Not so far," she replied. She looked at him for a moment, then said, "Do you really think this was another conspiracy?"

Patrick sighed. "No. I don't think so."

"You don't sound very sure."

"How could I be sure?" He took a deep breath to calm himself. Snapping at Teresa was the last thing he should be doing. "We won't know until we figure out what resources Bertram had. Of course, there's always blackmail as a recruitment tool. Even secondhand, like Reede Smith. Is Moore satisfied that Todd Mason wasn't directly involved with Bertram?"

"We haven't found any connection," Teresa said. "The case notes say Mason received a series of anonymous emails suggesting we were to blame for Allie's sad life after she fled Visualize. The rest was his idea. Remember you thought it felt amateurish?"

"It did, yes. Well, good. I won't have to forbid Victoria from going to the prom with Brett."

Teresa chuckled. "Like you've ever forbidden her anything."

"Mostly because she wouldn't listen to me anyway," he replied. "So the theory is that Bertram manipulated Mason into harassing us, until we couldn't stand it anymore and left for DC?"

Teresa frowned. "Right into Bertram's hands. But what really bothers me is the implication my new job was his doing too."

"What does Abbott say?"

"That I came highly recommended, but he doesn't remember specifically who suggested me."

He hated to see her doubt herself. "That doesn't mean you aren't perfect for the job."

"No. But I hate the idea it might all have been part of a plot."

"But it might not have been. Or," he added, struck with inspiration, "it might not have been a plot by Bertram. You have many admirers with connections at the FBI, including your devoted husband."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You wouldn't have. You love the farm."

"Not more than I love you." He hid his delight at her suspicion, so much like the old days at CBI. Of course, her memories of those times were not as fond as his, he cautioned himself.

She was also better at reading him now. "You're so full of it," she said, but the corners of her mouth were turned up ever so slightly.

Victoria emerged from her room and went into the kitchen. Teresa called, "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Just grabbing a drink," Victoria replied. "I've got a minute before they start. You still working?" She took a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and wandered over to them.

"Just trying to get through my email," Teresa replied, closing the laptop so her nosy daughter couldn't read over her shoulder.

"I need to do some research tonight," Victoria informed them. "I want to see if the colleges I'm considering offer criminal justice majors."

Patrick felt a chill run down his spine. "I thought you wanted to work with horses."

"I do. But I think I might be interested in being a cop." She grinned at him, and he couldn't tell if she was joking. "Maybe I could be a mounted police officer. You know, in New York or someplace."

Teresa looked about as sick as he felt, but she managed to say, "You have plenty of time to decide."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, English lit beckons." Victoria left the room.

Patrick swallowed hard. "Please tell me she was yanking our chain."

"Probably." Teresa sighed. "Over dinner, I can go over all the procedural errors we each made today. She might feel differently once she realizes all the rules involved."

"I won't encourage her to break them," Patrick promised. The last thing he wanted was Victoria following in either of their footsteps. He wanted her life to be full of beauty and joy, not dead bodies and the banality of evil.

"We should go visit Belle today, see when she can come home," Teresa suggested. "And you should look at flights back to California. The kids have missed enough school."

"Agreed. You'll come out as soon as you can?" He could hardly stand to think about being away from her again, but she was right.

"Of course. We have some wrapping up to do here, but Moore can handle the California end. I'll definitely be there for prom. Hopefully a couple of times between now and then, too."

"I certainly hope so. You'll want to say goodbye to Blueberry," Patrick said. "Which reminds me, I need to call his prospective new owner."

"You can give him a hug from me," Teresa replied. "Or Victoria can. That's not going to be easy."

"No. Which is why I'd rather have you there for the send off."

She grimaced. "Maybe that would be a good weekend for you guys to come here."

"A change of scene immediately afterward? Yes, that might be best. I'll keep you posted." He pondered the trade off of a long journey for a short time versus allowing Victoria to wallow in the grief of an empty pasture.

"And you should come out for the cherry blossoms in a couple of weeks," Teresa said, brightening.

"I'd love that." Patrick loved nature and new experiences, so he was looking forward to wandering among the famous trees in bloom. He wondered if he'd be doing it alone, though. Teresa's job was a demanding one, and she would want to work extra hard after such a rocky start.

"Hey." Teresa got up and put her arms around him. "It's only a few weeks now."

"Months," he corrected, because it was still March and graduation wasn't until June.

"And you have a lot to do, so it'll go fast," she tried to comfort him.

"Not fast enough." He put his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair.

mmm

Patrick and the twins left for California two days later, after Belle was home from the vet and on her way to recovery. One of the vet techs at the clinic also did petsitting and was hired to visit twice a day while Teresa was at work, so Patrick didn't have to worry about her care, especially after a thorough background check of the petsitter.

The farmhouse felt very empty without Belle, though. Patrick found himself looking for her every time he came into a room, and on the third night back, he exasperated Teresa by asking her to bring Belle to the screen.

"I think you call to talk to the dog more than to me," she complained as she gently lifted Belle onto the couch.

"I call to talk to you both," he corrected with his most charming grin. "How is she doing?"

"Good. She has a follow up appointment tomorrow. I'm taking her at lunch." Teresa scratched under the dog's chin, and Belle thumped her tail on the couch in appreciation. "I think she misses you though."

"It's mutual. Blueberry isn't sure what to make of the extra attention. Oh, he's going to his new home next weekend. I thought we'd come out immediately after."

"That sounds great." Teresa beamed. "I can't wait to see all of you. Speaking of which, where are the kids?"

"Victoria had a prom committee meeting, and Liam's band is rehearsing. One of his band mates got into Georgetown, so they're really excited about checking out the music scene there."

"Oh, that's great. He'll have at least one friend to start out with." Teresa smiled. Then she sobered. "Everything quiet there? Nothing weird?"

"Nothing unusual," he assured her. "Why? Did you turn up something in the investigation?"

"No. Cordero says it was just him and Mitchell."

"And Bertram?" He really hoped this was over, but he couldn't help remembering the string of copycats and wannabes who'd terrorized them after Red John's death. Maybe this was just the last of those, but he wouldn't rest easy for a while.

"Cho says he's so medicated he's not really coherent. They don't expect him to live much longer." Teresa hesitated. "It'll be interesting to see who turns up at the funeral. If there is one."

"You won't go, will you?" Patrick couldn't help feeling alarmed at the idea.

"I want to make sure the bastard's dead. Don't worry. My whole team will go."

Patrick hoped Bertram would hang onto life long enough to allow him to attend his funeral with Teresa. A week wasn't too much to ask, was it? "What, me worry?"

She snorted. "Right."

"I'm planning for us to stay the whole week," Patrick continued, feeling that it wasn't worth arguing over who the true worrywart was. "It's too far to go for a mere weekend, and the kids can do their classes remotely."

"That'll be great." Though she wouldn't see much of them during the day, being able to sleep next to her husband was something to look forward to.

"Oh, I did have one visitor you'll be interested in. Brett Mason stopped by this morning to give Victoria a ride to school, and he made a point to talk to me. Poor kid was practically shaking in his shoes." Patrick chuckled. "He told me he was really sorry for everything and that if I didn't want him to take Victoria to prom, he wouldn't like it, but he'd understand."

"And what did you say?"

"That it would take a harder heart than mine to deny my daughter the evening she's been planning for months. But if he didn't have her home on time he'd have numerous FBI agents on his tail."

Teresa frowned. "I know the worst thing we could do is giver her a Juliet complex, but I wish she'd find someone less complicated."

Patrick had to agree. "Victoria likes complicated, I'm afraid. She also has a bit of her mother's rescuer instinct."

"Sure, blame it on me, like I'm the one who likes to play with fire," Teresa pretended to grumble.

He grinned. "Relax. I think our kids have proven they're nobody's marks. She can handle this."

Teresa was silent for a moment. "I thought you'd be more freaked out by what happened. I expected you to be hovering over their every move, driving them crazy."

"That would be counterproductive." Patrick was glad she would never know how hard he'd been working not to do exactly that since their return. "I'm focusing on the positive. Our kids proved they're level headed and resourceful in a crisis. Considering how close they are to leaving the nest, I find that vastly reassuring."

"Uh huh." Teresa gave him a dubious look.

"Don't worry, my dear. You've trained me well all these years. I'm quite used to countering my anxiety with thoughts of how capable and careful you are. Now that our children have shown they inherited your cool head, I plan to handle their adventures the same way."

"That's...really reasonable of you," she said slowly.

"Don't sound so shocked," he chuckled.

"Patrick," she said, then stopped, apparently unable to put her concern into words.

"I'm fine, Teresa. And unlike most of the times you say it, it's true. Look, Stan's coming for dinner tonight; you can get a full report from him tomorrow."

"Fine." She gave up, though he knew he hadn't convinced her.

"And we'll be there this weekend. I can assure you I won't have a nervous breakdown between now and then."

"I'll hold you to that," she said. "Text me your flight information when you have it."

"It'll be a red eye," he warned. "Don't worry about meeting us; we'll just go straight to the condo." Although it would be a Saturday morning, he knew she might be working. She'd been making up for her time off, even though it wasn't required.

"I'd like to be there if I can."

"Don't worry if you can't," he told her. "We'll be there all week."

"I'll do my best to wrap our case before then." She frowned at the noise he could hear offscreen, then looked apologetic. "That's Cho. I better get it."

"Tell him hello. Love you."

"Love you too. Hug the kids for me," she said quickly before disconnecting.

mmm

Patrick couldn't stifle a yawn as he followed the twins off the plane. Unlike them, he hadn't been able to sleep, even knowing they were safely across the aisle.

Saying goodbye to Blueberry had been almost as emotional for him as for Victoria; he had so many memories of his little girl and her pony. Closing that chapter of their lives reminded him that all too soon, she was leaving too. His children were on the verge of setting out on their own journeys through life, leaving him behind. It was hard to put a brave face on that. He needed Teresa's comfort. He was sure the ache in his heart wouldn't go away until he was in her arms.

Soon, he promised himself. They'd landed a few minutes early, so even in rush hour traffic, they should make it to the condo before she left for work.

"Mom!" Liam exclaimed, Victoria echoing him.

Patrick caught sight of his wife and felt his heart lift. She gave him a big grin as she hugged Liam, then Victoria, being careful of her cast. He reached her at last and dropped his carry on so he could put both arms around her, and they held onto each other tightly.

When they pulled back to look at each other, her smile faded and she laid a hand on his cheek. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

He shook his head, managing a smile. "Let's grab our bags." He picked up his carry on, using his other hand to reach for hers.

After they retrieved their suitcases and piled into Teresa's car, she said, "Bertram died last night."

Patrick greeted this as good news. This time there would be no trial, and he was here to attend the funeral with Teresa. But she wasn't likely to look favorably on any expression of those sentiments, so he said, "Did he say anything more?"

"Not much. I went to see him a couple of days ago, when Cho told me he was awake. Don't freak out; Cho was there the whole time," she added quickly.

Patrick decided to let that pass. "And?"

Teresa sighed a little. "I told him I forgave him. Not because he deserved it, but because after he was dead, we were never going to give him a moment's thought again."

Patrick couldn't hide his delight. "Nicely done."

"I don't think he bought it. He just laughed. Oh, no funeral, by the way. He's being cremated and having his ashes interred in a family cemetery back in California."

"Good," Patrick said. "One less unpleasant thing to worry about."

"We have unpleasant things to worry about?" Liam said from the back seat.

Victoria said, "Well, giving up Blueberry wasn't any fun."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Teresa said. "I wish I could have been there. Did you like his new owner?"

"Yeah," Victoria admitted. "And Blueberry liked her too. She promised he'd meet lots of kids who would love him."

"He'll bring a lot of joy to some sick people," Teresa agreed. "I'm sure he'll enjoy it. He'll have a good life. But I'm sure he won't forget you."

Victoria sniffed a little and dabbed at her eyes. "I won't forget him either. Ever."

"How is Lady?" Teresa asked.

"Doing good. Sylvie's horse hurt her leg, so she's riding Lady instead, keeping her in good shape. They won the last show."

"Victoria has big news," Patrick announced.

"Oh?" Teresa stopped at a red light and turned to look over her shoulder. "What?"

"It's not that big a deal," Victoria said in a tone that belied her words. "Emory and Henry offered me a scholarship. My tuition would be covered, and I can board Lady on the school property. So...I decided to go there."

"Congratulations! I'm so proud of you!" Teresa exclaimed, beaming. She didn't even notice the light changing until the car behind them honked, and she turned her attention back to driving.

Victoria continued, "So Dad and I are going there after graduation to make the arrangements. We'll need to drive her there before school starts, in August."

Liam said, "That'll be a fun family vacation. Another Jane family road trip."

Probably the last one, Patrick thought, feeling choked up.

Teresa took a hand off the wheel for a minute to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, then said, "And it's a liberal arts school, so no criminal justice major."

Victoria said, "I'm going to major in equine studies, but I might do a double major with pre-law."

Teresa said, "You have time to figure all that out. I'm just glad we'll be living in the same state."

Liam snorted. "About as far as you can get and still be in Virginia. Emory's almost in Tennessee."

"Still driving distance," Patrick said. He found it comforting too that they would all be in the same state, at least until Liam finished his gap year and chose a school.

"We have to get through prom first," Victoria said. "I was supposed to be at a planning committee meeting today. But I'll have to Skype in."

"Well, I'm glad you came anyway," Teresa said. "And Belle will be so happy to see you. Just don't let her jump, okay? Her ribs are still wrapped."

Liam said, "I can't wait to see her. The house feels really empty without her."

"Oh, but you don't miss me at all?" Teresa teased.

"Of course, but I never have to watch where I'm walking to make sure I don't trip over you," Liam replied.

Patrick chuckled, deciding to forego a short joke. He had plans for tonight that didn't involve his wife being pissed at him.

Teresa chuckled too. "I missed you guys, smart remarks and all."

Liam said, "Do you have to work today?"

"No, unless we catch a new case," she replied. "We worked hard all week to make sure we could take a break."

Patrick hoped she was right, but he knew better than to base plans on hoping criminals would wait until Monday to strike. They would make the most of the time they had. "I'll go to the store and fix breakfast," he decided.

Teresa grinned. "I had everything you need delivered last night."

He was delighted. "Perfect."

mmm

It was wonderful to have the whole family together again, gathered around the table enjoying a hearty meal, Patrick thought as they ate. The twins had a lot to catch their mother up on, despite the fact that they'd talked every day, and Belle was overjoyed to have all her people back. He savored the familiarity of a weekend morning together, happy that there was a full week before he had to think about leaving again.

He didn't even mind that Teresa had made some minor modifications to his kitchen organization, though he intended to change it all back again once he was in full-time residence. As he set the dishwasher to run, he yawned, feeling his sleepless night catching up to him now that his stomach was full and he was relaxed. Teresa and the twins were still chattering away, so he slipped down the hall to the master bedroom, had a quick, hot shower, and tucked himself into bed for a nap.

He slept deeply, waking to the feel of fingertips on his face. He blinked, noting the angle of the sun had changed before focusing on his wife's face next to his on the pillow.

"Sorry," she said softly. "You were drooling."

"I was not," he said automatically, though he suspected she was right.

She smirked. "The kids took Belle to the dog park."

He swallowed hard, remembering the last family trip there. Teresa frowned. "They'll be fine. They know to stay together, and they have their phones. Plus, it's Saturday. That place will be packed."

"I know," he sighed.

"We have no reason to think Bertram's plot didn't die with him."

"I know. And they're probably safer here, where Visualize doesn't have as many followers."

Teresa laid her hand on his cheek. "What's the matter?"

He let out a long sigh. "Saying goodbye to Blueberry was...like giving up on all of us being together."

"We'll still all be together. We have all summer. And there'll be Christmas break. She's not going so far away we can't see her on weekends, even, if we want."

"But we won't all live together anymore. And soon Liam will go too." He closed his eyes.

"Hey." She waited until he looked at her again to continue. "You're not losing us. You know that, right? You're not going to be left on your own. The kids will be a phone call away, and I'll be here."

"I know that, intellectually. But it feels like...like going backwards, somehow. You know how happy I was to have a family again. To have a second chance. Letting go is...hard."

"You don't have to let go. You're not losing your family," she said, her tone gentle. "This is just a new phase for us. A good phase. If this weren't happening, it would be a bad thing, like we failed them."

"I know. But..." He trailed off. His feelings weren't rational; they couldn't be reasoned away.

Teresa leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. "It's not easy for me either," she admitted. "In my heart, they'll always be my babies. I know too much about the bad things that can happen to them. But we have to let them go out there on their own and build their lives. Build their own families, maybe. It doesn't mean they're leaving us. We will always be a family, no matter how far apart we may be geographically. Someday we may be a bigger family, that's all."

The thought of bouncing a grandchild on his knee was cheering. "We should do our traveling before we become babysitters."

"We will. Five more years, okay? Then I'll retire. We should have plenty of time to travel before the kids start to settle down."

"Deal," he said, kissing her to seal it.

"Plus," she grinned, "there are advantages to being kid-free. Remember when we were first married?"

"Just barely," he chuckled. "How long do you think they'll be at the dog park?"

"They're smart kids. Long enough," she replied, sitting up to unbutton her blouse.

Patrick watched her with a smile. Maybe, he thought, he could get used to this again with her help. She was, still and always, a marvelous distraction.

More than that, though, he realized. The core of their family had always been their partnership. That was still intact, maybe stronger than ever. Being separated for these long months prevented them from taking each other for granted, after all.

Yes, he thought as she slipped under the covers with him. He would be fine. Things were changing, but he and Teresa still loved each other, looked after each other. He could hold onto that, no matter what happened.


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note:** It seems I'm having trouble finding the ending here, but I think there's just a short epilogue after this. Thanks to everyone still reading! I love that this fandom is still active 3 years after the show finished. It's a testament to how wonderful the show was and what a special community grew up around it. I'm so glad it's part of my life.

* * *

 **Chapter 34**

Teresa looked down at her phone, which was still stubbornly showing that she was late. Very late. Possibly unforgivably late.

"Can't you go any faster?" she asked before remembering that the first cab she'd seen at the airport was driverless.

"The speed limit on this road is 35 miles per hour. We are traveling at the maximum allowable speed," a disembodied voice replied.

She should have waited for a human driver, she thought in frustration. She could have bribed a human, or won them over with her tale of weather delays on the day of her children's prom and her earnest desire not to miss seeing them before they set off. She'd promised she'd be there.

She'd planned to arrive much earlier in the day so she could relax with them and make sure Patrick wasn't brooding, as he sometimes did during the milestones that Charlotte hadn't lived to experience. Her heart ached as she pictured him helping Victoria with her hair and remembering how he'd braided Charlotte's.

She'd managed a couple of video calls during her last layover, but it wasn't the same as being there. And she'd told them not to delay their dinner plans for her; it wasn't fair to make all their friends wait because there'd been a massive storm in Chicago and then a tornado outside Dallas, where she'd rerouted in an attempt to get to Sacramento in time.

She should have come out yesterday as planned. Cho could've wrapped up the case, and he'd told her as much. She just didn't want Abbott to think she was unreliable, after what she thought of as a shaky start to this job.

At last the cab turned onto the road leading to the farmhouse. Teresa leaned forward, looking for any sign of a limousine she could flag down. The road remained empty, though, just like the pasture to her right. For the first time, she felt a pang of regret for the life they were leaving behind.

She held her breath on the final turn, and then let it out with a smile as she saw two limousines parked ahead and the colorful group waiting for her on the porch. The second the car stopped, she grabbed her bag and bolted out, running for the porch steps.

Liam and Victoria grinned at her as she hugged them, careful not to mess up their clothes or hair. "Sorry I'm late," she said, stepping back. "You both look great!"

Patrick was beaming. "Pictures, quickly. They're already late for dinner."

Teresa posed for pictures with the kids, then for some family shots that Brett took. Then she just had time to briefly greet the rest of the party as they headed to the limos. Patrick slid an arm around her waist as they waved to the departing vehicles.

"Just in the nick of time," he said.

"Only because you made them wait. Thank you," she replied, kissing his cheek.

"No coercion was required. Neither of them was budging until you got here," he said, bending to pick up her bag. "Hungry?"

"Starved. My stomach's on Eastern time." She smiled as she caught a whiff of something delicious.

"There's a pot roast in the slow cooker with your name on it," he said, chuckling as her stomach growled.

They walked through to the kitchen, depositing her bag at the foot of the stairs. "How did it go today?" she asked.

"Pretty well. Victoria changed her mind about her shoes over lunch, so we had a rush delivery for the new pair. But that was really the only drama. Liam has the barn all set up for the post-prom concert."

Teresa went to the cupboard for plates as Patrick opened a bottle of red wine. "You still have a security camera in there?" While it had housed his Citroen, he'd made an effort at security.

"Yes, but I have better things to do than spy on our well behaved son, now that you're here." He winked at her, then sobered. "Still heading back tomorrow night?"

"No. I have a meeting with Stan Monday. Feel like lunch in San Francisco?"

"Sounds great." He handed her a wine glass with a generous pour as she finished setting the table. "So you're heading back Tuesday?"

"Yes, a morning flight. But I'll be back for graduation. And I'll be sure to travel a day early." She grimaced into her wine.

Patrick looked skeptical, but she couldn't blame him. Despite her good intentions, this was her first trip back to Sacramento since Bertram's death. The burden of travel had been on him, two trips with the kids and one short solo visit. It would get easier once school was over, but they couldn't move to DC full time then either. Victoria at least needed to be here to look after Lady and ride, now that her cast was almost ready to come off.

Patrick seemed to follow her train of thought. "Liam still says he's ready to move after graduation. I'd like to, but I'm not sure about leaving Victoria here by herself."

"I'd rather you didn't, not full time. But maybe you could get on a regular schedule, two weeks at each place or something?"

"I'll check her competition schedule," he replied, setting a serving dish on the table. It smelled amazing, and she knew from experience it tasted even better.

She scooped a huge helping of beef, carrots, onions, and potatoes onto her plate and dug in, hungry enough that she didn't even mind that her husband was watching her with a dopey grin on his face. After a few minutes, he served himself and ate too.

"Class rankings are out," he remarked when she paused to sip her wine.

"And?"

"Liam snuck past Victoria for valedictorian. By two-tenths of a point."

"Ouch." Liam wouldn't have cared about second place, but Victoria certainly would.

"Yes, it's a sore point. But it turns out, she and Matt tied for salutatorian, so Liam proposed a joint address for the valedictorian, on the grounds that it would be easier for him to share the stage with his sister than for Matt. The principal agreed to it, I imagine with a sense of relief. So the ceremony will be Jane majority instead of a Jane sweep."

It was her turn to chuckle. "Good. Some other family should have to deal with stage fright too."

"Victoria hasn't had stage fright since she was eight. But Liam will have enough for both of them."

"Just remind them that giving that speech is a serious responsibility, not an opportunity for a skit," she said, grabbing the serving spoon to replenish her supply of carrots.

"There's dessert," Patrick remarked.

"Good. It'll be a late night." The barn was close enough to the house that they'd be able to hear the music, though at a bearable level.

"Yes. But fortunately we have several hours to ourselves before the festivities come our way." He gave her a sly smile that immediately increased her heart rate.

"I suppose we need to develop some hobbies to prepare for our empty nest," she said.

"Or revisit some old ones. Remember that first year we were together?" He reached for her hand and played with her fingers.

"Vaguely," she teased him. "I think we mostly closed cases, right?"

"Not the first year we worked together," he grinned. "The first year we slept together."

"Oh, that." She barely managed to keep a straight face. "I mostly remember the cases, but I suppose there were some memorable moments off the clock too."

Patrick chuckled. "You're still a bad liar, my dear. There are many, many moments I know you recall with absolute clarity."

"Maybe my memory needs refreshing." She could feel herself smiling despite her best effort.

"Ah. Yes, we are getting older. But if we're still toddling around at New Year's maybe we can go back to Seattle. I know you still have that sexy green dress tucked away somewhere."

"Maybe I'll buy a new one. And I'm sure we can find a party to go to in DC. But we have to get a room at the hotel. I'm not making out in a cab again."

"Deal. That way we don't have to worry about the kids, anyway." Patrick lifted her hand to his lips, making her shiver.

She put down her fork. "I've had enough to eat for now."

"Good. I was running out of witty banter," Patrick said in exaggerated relief, standing and pulling her to her feet.

mmm

Afterward, Teresa held him tightly, savoring the feel of his skin and the faint rasp of his breath against her hair as they lay under the covers. "I missed you," she whispered, though the words felt too small for the deep ache she had felt lying in an empty bed.

"I hate being away from you," he sighed.

She gently ran her fingers through his curls. "Not long now."

"I know. I just...thought it would get easier. That I'd get used to it. But it gets worse instead."

She pressed a kiss to his chin. "I know. For me, too. But let's not spend our time together thinking about that, hm?"

"Yeah, you're right." He shifted a little so he wasn't lying on her arm. "We should sleep while we can. Then have dessert during the concert."

"I'm on board with that," she yawned. It really was bedtime for her, after all. And Liam and his friends would be here around eleven.

She fell deeply asleep a minute later, waking only when the front door banged open, followed by several sets of heavy footsteps moving across the living room. She sat up and looked for her gun, alarmed by Patrick's absence until she heard his voice from downstairs. "Quiet, guys. Liam's mom is asleep."

"Sorry, Mr. J," came a vaguely familiar voice. "We'll grab the coolers. Anything else?"

"Those two bags have snacks. I'll put more cans in the fridge; just come on in when you need them."

Liam said, "Thanks, Dad. Mom okay?"

"She's fine, just on Eastern time. Need help carrying things?"

"We got it. Jeremy's on his way—send him to the barn when he gets here?"

"Of course. We should have made signs," Patrick said, sounding amused. "Hey. You want to leave your jackets here? I'll hang them up."

Liam's friend laughed. "Thanks. You just made my mom really happy."

Teresa got quietly out of bed and hurried to get dressed, then went downstairs to share the parental duties. The boys were gone before she reached the kitchen, but she found Patrick contemplating the pantry, one finger tapping his lips. "I'm not sure I got enough chips," he said without turning around. "I made guacamole, salsa, and queso dip, but Matt just inhaled half a bag without any of it."

"Want me to head to the store?" she offered. He'd put in so much work for this, while all she'd done was show up—late, at that.

"No, let's see how it goes. I'm thinking the less messy finger foods will probably be most popular." He turned, giving her a smile. "You look adorable."

Damn, she hadn't brushed her hair, she realized. She ran a hand through it, hoping it would fall into some kind of order. "It's too bad I don't have any political ambitions. A spouse who's as talented at hosting as you are would be a definite asset."

"It's not too late," he chuckled. "Attorney General Teresa Lisbon has a nice ring to it."

"I thought you wanted me to retire."

"I want you to do whatever makes you happy," he replied.

Getting into politics and having their past sensationalized all over the media—again—was only slightly more attractive than death by fire ants, she thought. "You make me happy," she said, sliding her arms around him.

He gave a hum of pleasure as they held each other. "Good."

They stayed in the embrace, enjoying the closeness, until they heard a car door slam out front, followed shortly by a ringing single chord from an electric guitar.

"I guess the party's getting started," Patrick said.

She looked up at his smile. He was never happier than when his family was safely within reach, having fun. "Are Victoria and Brett coming too?"

"Victoria said they had better things to do than hang out in a barn," he said. "But I bet they make an appearance before the night's out. She likes to make an entrance."

"Like father, like daughter."

He grinned. "Oh, no. I'm strictly forbidden from entering the barn until it's time to clean up. Clever of you to arrive so late that no one could wheedle any promises out of you."

"Yes, my clever plan of weather delays." She rolled her eyes.

"Take your silver linings where you can," he advised. "I'm going to put out some lanterns to help the kids find their way. Want to help?"

"Sure." She smiled, glad for the chance to pitch in, as she followed him to the back porch.

True to form, Patrick had gone all out. His "lanterns," she was amused to note, were actually battery powered walkway lighting stakes, and he'd bought enough to put them every five feet or so from the driveway around to the back yard and then through the gate to the barn door.

With two of them doing the work, it went fairly quickly, but a steady stream of teenagers passed them, most of them polite enough to say "thanks" or "good evening" to her. Some of them looked vaguely familiar, but Patrick greeted at least one of each couple by name. She knew it was his memory palace at work, but she still felt bad that she hadn't spent as much time at school functions as he had. She should have known faces, if not names.

Even before she moved to the other side of the country, she'd often been an absentee parent. There'd always been a good reason, of course—crimes were in plentiful supply, and even though she'd been out of the field, her management role was critical to ensuring her teams had the resources they needed.

Still, she wondered now if she'd worked more than strictly necessary because she wasn't sure she was a good parent, while she knew she was a good agent. And she'd always thought that Patrick was better with the kids than she was. While he was looking after them, she wasn't needed.

Now, though, there was precious little parenting left to do. Victoria would be busy preparing for college and leaving home; Liam would be building his own life in DC and traveling with his father, perhaps. They were well on their way to being successful adults. Her chances to influence them were all but gone.

"What's the matter?" Patrick asked as they went back into the house and closed the door, reducing the volume of the music.

"Nothing." She smiled at him. He was the one who needed comfort tonight, after all.

He didn't argue with her as they went into the kitchen, but washed his hands and poured two more glasses of red wine before pulling two crystal dessert goblets from the refrigerator.

Teresa grinned as she washed her own hands. "Your pot de crème?"

"Yes."

She chuckled. "This usually precedes sex."

"And it still can," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Ambitious," she said, then sighed. "And wrong. What if one or more of those kids in the barn comes in? I'm not risking it."

"Morning, then? The kids will sleep in. Or are you planning to drag them to Mass?"

"No, this once I think we'll stay home. I'm onboard with the sleeping in plan." She picked up her spoon and scooped some of the rich chocolate cream into her mouth. "Mmm. Though this feels like it might require a confession."

Patrick grinned at her, pleased. "Good. Remember the first time I made this?"

"How could I forget? You had that horrible dye job from your little trip with Lorelei, and you were still trying to beg forgiveness."

"Leave it to you to remember the case," he said, rolling his eyes a little. "I was remembering the interlude on the kitchen counter."

"Well, that was memorable," she admitted. "Though it was only the appetizer. So is this your way of reminding me what we used to be like before we had children?"

"I'm sure you remember it quite well," he said, taking a bite himself. "This is my way of reminding you that I love you."

"I've never doubted it," she assured him.

"And I'm so grateful to have had you beside me on this journey," he continued. "Our children are amazing, and that's largely due to you."

Teresa stared at him. "You get the credit, Patrick. You were the one who was there every day when they were little and went to all their school things. You helped them with their homework and went to all the parent-teacher conferences. You even taught them how to drive."

"But you were the one who taught them how to be good people. Not just by taking them to church, but by your example of kindness and caring. You showed them it was important to stand up for what you believe, to choose something meaningful and then do it with all your might. You showed them they can set goals and achieve them, even if it isn't easy. It's not the amount of time you spent with them, love. It's the quality of that time. And you gave them your best every minute you spent with them, and your excellent example when you weren't there."

She felt her eyes get misty, but he wasn't finished yet. "It has always been important to me that our children felt loved, cherished, and protected. And I know it was equally important to you. We achieved that. There has never been a moment of doubt in their minds."

"I know," she said softly. "And I still think that was mostly you, and I am thankful for it."

"Well," he said with a gentle smile, "I guess we can agree to disagree."

She smiled back. Their differences had never been stronger than their bond, and she was glad that hadn't changed.

There was a pause in the concert, and then she heard the first notes of a familiar song. "I didn't know the band was into the oldies."

"Liam said they wanted to do a mix. They're probably feeling a little nostalgic." Patrick shook his head a little, then got to his feet and held out his hand. "Dance?"

"In here?" She gave him her hand and stood.

"Not the proper ambience." He opened the back door and led her onto the porch, lit only by the moon. She thought they should turn the light on in case the kids needed something, but that could wait until after she had a moonlight dance with her husband. They didn't get many chances to dance together, after all. How many years had it been?

Since "September" wasn't the tempo for a slow dance, she wasn't sure how to start, but Patrick lifted their hands and twirled her around. Soon they were in perfect rhythm, and she laughed as he incorporated a dramatic dip and then pulled her up for a smooch.

"Still got the moves, huh?" she teased.

"I have to keep up with you, don't I?" he replied. "You still have a spring in your step. Besides, just because I'm retired doesn't mean I'm ready to sit in a rocking chair for the remainder of my evenings. There's still a lot of world to see."

"Are you taking Liam on safari this summer?"

"I doubt he's going to have time. Besides, I'd rather go with you. I can wait a few years." He grinned at her. "And don't worry. I'm not going to make you sleep in a tent. We'll go luxury all the way, city girl."

"Good."

When the song ended, Teresa turned to go back into the house, but Patrick stopped her. "The night is young, you know."

A slower song began to play, and she willingly went into his arms. It was less a dance than a gentle swaying, but she enjoyed it enormously.

When that was done, they went over to the wooden porch swing to sit, and she laid her head on his shoulder. "That was nice."

"I look forward to date nights in DC," he replied.

"Me too."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the late arrivals pass by. Teresa didn't pay much attention, just being in the moment, until Patrick gave a surprised "hm."

"Looks like Schuyler and Mike made up in time for prom."

"Why watch TV when you have a high school for entertainment?" she chuckled.

"I like to understand the environment our children spend their days in."

"And I love that about you. But how are you going to do that with Victoria off at college?"

"I plan to attend orientation with her and have a look around. We'll have work to do getting Lady settled in, after all. I'll invite Liam to come with us too. The more familiar he is with campus life, the more comfortable he'll be choosing a school next year."

Teresa thought it was a good plan, but she was a little hurt by the assumption that she wouldn't participate. "Let me know when it is. I'd like to go if I can."

"That would be wonderful. I'll put it on your calendar as soon as I find out the dates." He paused, and she felt his breathing change a little. "We haven't talked much about your job. How's it going?"

"It's fine. Working with Cho again is great. You'll be happy to know that you were a lasting influence on him. He's not nearly as by the book as he used to be."

"Cho never was by the book," Patrick said. "He was always focused on the ends, not the means. You just never noticed because he didn't make a fuss about it."

"I guess that would explain why he always let you get away with stupid crap." She was a little ashamed she'd never made the connection, but looking back, he was right.

"Only when it seemed likely to close the case. Do you like working for Abbott?"

She could see where this was going. Now that the kids' lives were sorted out, he was going to focus his energy on making hers as perfect as possible. "I do. He has to keep the higher-ups happy, of course, but he has our backs. Why? Are you interested in consulting again?"

He hummed a little, signifying uncertainty. "I'm not job hunting. But I want to make sure you do this job because you enjoy it, not because you think you owe anybody anything. The minute it stops being fun, you should retire."

"The team is coming along nicely. Cho could take over tomorrow and they'd be fine," Teresa agreed. "But we're doing important work. I'm enjoying it. Still, I do think I should make more of an effort to set aside time for vacations, after the first year is over. Do you want to start planning a trip overseas for next summer?"

"I would love to." He sounded delighted. "Anyplace in particular you want to start with?"

"No. Your choice." He would need something to look forward to, she thought.

"I'll do some research."

They sat together in companionable silence after that, taking in the peaceful evening around the brightly lit barn and alternately enjoying and wincing at the playlist. Teresa yawned a few times, wondering if it would be worth it to go back to bed but unwilling to move. Right here, with Patrick's arm around her shoulders, was the place she'd longed to be for weeks.

"Look," Patrick whispered.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and followed his gaze. Victoria and Brett were making their way along the lighted path toward the barn, arm in arm.

"I knew it," Patrick said with satisfaction.

Teresa was just glad to have both her children home, enjoying themselves in a safe environment. "Did you set an end time for this concert?"

"It's prom. They can go until sunup if they want." He paused, then added, "I never got to go to high school, you know. I want them to have everything I missed. I'm enjoying it vicariously."

"I know you are. Okay, sunup it is. Are you serving brunch?" she teased.

"Not a bad idea. But I would need to go to the store to do the full spread."

"I was kidding. The other kids' parents are going to want them home by breakfast."

"I suppose. Well, just the family, then."

She kissed his cheek. "Perfect."


	35. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** It was a lot harder saying good-bye to this story than I anticipated. Real life has also been a bear. But I hope this is a suitable ending and that those of you who have been reading this story for the past couple of years (!) enjoy it. Thanks for coming along on the ride!

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Patrick took a deep breath and closed his eyes, using the scent of freshly mown grass drying in the sunshine to center himself. As he calmed, he noticed the subtle herbal fragrance of Teresa's shampoo and smiled a little. She was standing beside him, and that made everything bearable.

Opening his eyes, he forced himself to smile. A group of young people, mostly new freshmen like Victoria, were readying their horses for an introductory ride around the campus grounds. It was time for her to settle into a routine and for the rest of the family to go home and resume theirs. It sounded so easy, and felt so impossible.

The summer had been a whirlwind, from the twins' graduation to flying back and forth across the country to the sadness of closing up the farmhouse and the pleasure of a road trip with both his children as they brought Lady out to her new home in southwestern Virginia. He hadn't had much time or inclination to process all his feelings, focusing on Victoria, Liam, and Teresa as they went through their own adaptations. But now, moments away from the separation he hadn't had the courage to think much about, he had to face it: he was terrified.

Teresa's hand found his and squeezed hard. He knew this wasn't easy for her either, nor for Liam, sitting several yards away with his sketchbook, busily recording his impressions on paper. Patrick supposed he should regret that, but he was grateful for the shared burden. It helped to know he wasn't alone.

Victoria's hair glinted gold in the morning sunlight, and he had a flash of memory: Charlotte playing on the beach as a toddler, the California sunshine giving her almost a halo. If she had lived, he would have faced this moment almost twenty years ago. Would it have been easier, without an earlier loss to sharpen the pang? Or maybe it would have been harder. Or maybe it wouldn't have been comparable at all, since he would be a different man with a different life. It was one of those things Teresa often told him not to dwell on. Might-have-beens weren't helpful.

For all he knew, he and Charlotte might have butted heads all through her adolescence and be glad for some space between them. She might have been ashamed of him and his career. Angela might have left him and taken Charlotte with her, cutting him out of both their lives. There was no way to know how his life might have unfolded. For all his attempts to control the outcomes that mattered to him, he knew deep down that all control over life was an illusion. It took shockingly little time for everything to change.

Teresa had worked hard at reminding him that, statistically, Victoria was as safe here at Emory and Henry as she would be at home with them, maybe even safer. Plus, here she would discover who she was when she was responsible for her own day-to-day life. That was an enormous gift, Teresa had told him just last night.

He could acknowledge that with his mind, but it didn't stop his heart from aching.

"Five minutes!" the lead rider, a senior, called out. The freshmen scattered to their families, all waiting to see their children off.

Victoria started with Liam. They were too far away to hear, but Patrick could see Liam struggle to be cheerful. He bet there were some tears in the final hug, but Liam hunched down over his sketchbook again, hiding his face.

Victoria's eyes were a little red as she hugged her mother. Teresa drew a deep, shaky breath. "Have fun," she said. "And if you need bail, call your father."

Victoria laughed. "I'll call you at work," she threatened.

"Love you, sweetheart," Teresa said, pulling back and brushing Victoria's hair back. Her smile was tender and trembled only a little.

"Love you too, Mom. Take care of the guys for me." Victoria smiled back, then turned to engulf Patrick in the kind of exuberant hug she'd given him as a little girl. "Bye, Dad," she whispered.

He hugged back hard. "You take care of yourself," he whispered back. "Call me anytime if you need anything."

"I will," she promised, though they both knew she was lying. She was eager to prove her independence and maturity, and she had all the skills and knowledge she needed to take care of herself without his advice. All she lacked now was experience, and college would provide that.

"I love you," he whispered, because it was important not to pass up opportunities to say it.

"Love you too," she whispered back.

It took all his strength of will to let her go when she pulled away. He couldn't quite summon a smile, but she didn't notice, busy trying to appear casual as she wiped her eyes.

"Text me when you get home," she said.

Teresa smiled. "We will. Have fun on your ride."

"I will!" Victoria hurried off to join her fellow riders, some of whom were already in the saddle. She put on her helmet and swung up onto Lady's back with the ease of long practice, then waved to them.

Teresa's hand found Patrick's again, and he squeezed it gratefully.

He'd watched Victoria ride away so many times he'd lost count over the years, but this was the first time he'd done it knowing he wouldn't see her when she dismounted. His throat closed as he pictured the days ahead when he wouldn't be part of her daily life.

The riders moved out, starting out at an easy trot as they left the stable yard behind and headed along the trail. There was a fence several hundred yards along, and the lead rider stopped to dismount and open the gate. But Victoria, with typical impatience—and showmanship—kicked Lady into a graceful gallop and soared over the fence easily.

They were too far for Patrick to hear what the lead rider called out, but he read the chastisement in the set of Victoria's shoulders as she reined Lady in and circled around to wait for the others. She took last place in the line of riders, apparently as punishment for not following the rules. It wouldn't be the last time, Patrick bet.

Teresa let out a half-sigh, half-chuckle. "Let's go," she said, her voice only a little hoarse. "She'll be fine."

"Yes, she will," he agreed.

"And so will we," she added firmly.

Her tone brought a slight smile to his lips. "Yes, we will."

She squeezed his hand, then turned to Liam. "You ready to go?"

Liam nodded. "Yeah. Can I drive?"

"Sure."

They walked back to where the Volvo was parked, much emptier now without Victoria's things in it. Patrick looked around the campus as they went, pleased by how peaceful it seemed even with all the people around. He hadn't had this opportunity in his own life, but he was glad his daughter did.

Next year it would be Liam's turn. He might well choose an urban campus rather than this idyllic pastoral scene, but the hopeful energy of the students would likely be the same.

Teresa, possibly concerned by his silence, said, "We'll see her at Thanksgiving, if not before."

He nodded.

Liam said, "What are you going to do with all your free time now, Dad?"

Patrick looked at him and said with a straight face, "It's your turn now, Liam. You get the full only child experience. I'll be dogging your every step dispensing advice and admonition."

"Hah." Liam was unworried. "You'll need to find a new hobby. Jeremy says his dad gave him a lead on a job at the university bookstore and he can probably get me one too. Plus we have some people who might be interested in our new band."

Teresa said, "That's great. Maybe next semester you could audit a class, see what it's like."

"Maybe." Liam sounded unconvinced as he slid into the driver's seat.

Teresa got into the back seat, leaving the front for Patrick. While he appreciated the gift of leg room, he needed her company more right now. She looked only a little surprised when he slid into the back seat with her.

"What am I, your chauffeur?" Liam teased them as he put the car in gear.

"Don't expect a paycheck," Teresa replied, reaching for Patrick's hand.

"I accept tips in ice cream."

Patrick chuckled. "That might be arranged."

He turned to look out the window as they drove, still not used to how luxuriantly green Virginia was compared to Sacramento. He supposed it was a good thing to have a new setting for this new life, where he wouldn't be faced with reminders of the old one every day and could form new routines that wouldn't suffer from gaps or awkward adaptations.

Teresa had once told him that was why she had gone so far from Chicago for college: it was easier to make a new life in a new place. Not that he wanted to forget his old life, any more than she had really wanted to forget hers. But it was easier to go forward on a new road.

That was why he'd kept his house in Malibu for so long, as a reminder, a place to go to immerse himself in his losses. Life in Sacramento with the CBI had been so different that it was all too easy to forget sometimes his greater purpose in being there.

Malibu itself had been a deliberate choice, so different from the Midwest carny circuit he and Angela had known. They'd originally chosen the L.A. area generally for the enormous potential audiences and clientele but had fallen in love with it for the sense of being able to reinvent themselves there.

His life had been more like a series of lives. He hadn't had any say in his childhood, but every place he'd chosen to live afterward had been an expression of the person he hoped to be and the life he envisioned living.

Emory and Henry was the first of Victoria's choices, he realized. It was lucky she'd made one he could approve of; it would make all the others easier, he hoped.

When it was Liam's turn, he and Teresa would still be living in DC. That would be a very different process, but maybe it would be easier for not being the first. He could hope, anyway.

Teresa leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered, "You okay?"

"Yeah." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "I will be."

His next life would be as the husband of a successful FBI agent and the father of two successful adult children, providing whatever help was asked for and (hopefully) not interfering when no help was wanted. He would have plenty of time to wander museums and feed his intellectual curiosity. Maybe he would write that book he'd been threatening for years. Or maybe he'd let Teresa convince him to consult again. Or maybe it would be some combination thereof.

Liam said, "I'll be glad to get back to DC. It's too quiet here."

He was definitely not choosing a rural college environment, Patrick thought with a wry smile. "You're a city boy at heart. Like your mom."

"Yeah, I guess," he replied.

Teresa said, "Maybe we can split the difference and retire part of the year at the farm and part of the year here."

"I don't think we're going to want the upkeep of a farm in our old age," Patrick replied. It would be better to keep moving forward than try to go back, anyway. "Maybe we can buy a snug little condo on a beach for when we want to get away."

"Sounds nice," she murmured. He wondered if she would fall asleep on his shoulder; neither of them had slept well last night.

"Christmases at the beach. I could do that," Liam said.

Patrick let himself imagine it: the four of them reuniting for holidays, glad to see each other and take a break from their usual routines. Eventually one of the twins would bring someone else into the fold, and then maybe there'd be grandchildren. They'd outgrow the condo and move the celebration to one of the twins' homes, maybe alternating years between them. It would be the kind of Christmas card holiday he'd longed for as a child and worked to create every year since the twins were born, building on his all too brief practice with Charlotte.

Of course, reality would probably be different than his imaginings. It wasn't possible to perfectly predict life; there were no constants, only variables.

Teresa shifted against him and let out a soft sigh that told him she was dozing off. He smiled, revising his earlier thought. She was his constant. Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. A nap sounded good. He could contemplate life later. It would be waiting when he woke.

THE END


End file.
